Blessed With A Curse (Oli Sykes FanFic)

1

I hear my mom making some noise down stairs, mostly rumbling around in the kitchen; pots and pans and what not. Drowsy still with sleep it doesn't register that I should have my dumb ass down there making her breakfast before she comes up here and gives me the beating of my life. My eyes fly open and I spring out of bed in an instant. Shit, shit, shit! I'm so dead, literally!

I get dressed as fast as I can, pulling jeans and an oversized sweat shirt on.

Maybe I can make it before she comes up here.

I hear drunken footsteps come up the stairs; too late. I go to close my door; a weak attempt to block my mom but she beats me to the door and slams it open. I step back and let a shrill scream out as I trip over my back pack.

Stupid fucking back pack!

"Hey bitch, sleep well?" mom slurs, I cower back as she gains up on me. I'm so going to die. "Guess who had to make their own fucking breakfast while some selfish lazy ass sleeps?" she continues, looming over me, she slaps me hard on the face. I can feel the hot, burning pain of being slapped spread throughout my cheek. It's all too familiar, it's a cycle; mom gets drunk, beats me, gets drunk again, fucks some guy, and then it starts all over again.

As I cower away from her punches and slaps, she kicks me repeatedly in the stomach. I lie there hopelessly and finally go numb as she beats me merciless. I zone out and lose myself in my own mind like I always do when my mom has a "fit".

"Had enough you worthless piece of shit?" she yells at me as she kicks me one last time in the back and then once in the stomach. I cough up a little blood; normal. "Go clean yourself up; you disgust me." Great the feelings mutual- I think to myself bitterly.

My mom leaves shuffling out of my room and down the stairs. I lay there for a little bit longer surrounded in my own blood and vomit from being kicked too hard.

Why couldn't she just have killed me?

I sit up carefully and look at the clock on my bed stand: 6:30 am.

I gather myself and stand up with the help of my bed and dresser, limping to the bathroom. I hear the front door open and close and the car back out of the drive way.

Oh thank god, she's gone!

After I take a long hot shower, I can't help but criticize my body in the mirror after a failed attempt to stay away from it.

God, I'm repulsive I can see how my mom thinks I'm disgusting

I patch all my wounds and check all my old ones and the scars on my wrist, the ones I caused. Thankfully mom didn't leave any bruises on my face; those are the worst to hide.

You're probably thinking who this miserable fuck is, I'm Mina. I've been stuck in this horrible meat suit for 17 fucking years. I'll be 18 in December. I'm ugly and fat, and like my mom loves to remind me I'm a "worthless piece of shit". I have no friends, expect Ronnie. I'm the loner of the school and the punching bag too. Not just at home am I my mom's punching bag; I'm the schools too, great huh?

My mom started beating me when I was 5, when my dad died. She didn't take it well and a whiny 5 year old didn't help. To be honest I probably deserved those first couple of beatings. But there's a line between discipline and abuse, and once my mom crossed that line she never went back. I've always been too afraid to hit back so I just take it.

I pull myself out of my head reminding myself the bus comes in a half hour and I'm in no shape to walk to school, even though I could probably use it. I go to my room and change my clothes, these are covered in blood. I grab black skinny jeans and rummage through my shirts for a couple of minutes looking for a shirt that is long sleeve or one I can wear a hoodie with; I grab a tee shirt and a hoodie. I slip it on and grab a black and gray beanie and wince as I accidentally hit myself in the face as I slip it over my hair, I check my phone for the time.