Tired of the Bruises

Chapter 6

***FLASHBACK (6 MONTHS AGO) ***

            My dad’s red, angry face comes rushing towards me. I am just sitting here on my bed, and I have no idea what is going on or even why he is so mad at me.

            “Why?!” His fuming voice belts out over the silence.

            “I-is something wrong, daddy?” I ask; suddenly getting nervous and scared.

            His fist comes hurtling at my stomach. I bend over and clutch my stomach, groaning in agony. Another fist comes storming at my gut once again. I stumble on to the ground, about to let out a large cry. I will not cry. I will not show my weakness. I will not let him see me cry. The pain would just come once again.

            I look up to realize that my father has disappeared. He never even told me what was wrong or what I did wrong. I breathe a sigh of relief, but as soon as I let it out, I immediately regret it. My stomach feels like it is going to rip open. Never in my seventeen years of being alive have I endured that much pain all at one time. I lift up my shirt to see two nice sized bruises already forming.

            Nevertheless, not only do I have bruises forming, I also have a plan.

***FLASHBACK OVER***

            I keep having these stupid flashbacks of my father beating me. Only one of those two bruises went away. I touch one of them, wincing not only in pain, but also in memory. I need to get my mind off the bad things in my life, and think about the good things that are still to come later on.

            Glancing at my GPS, I now see that I only have fifty miles until I get to my aunt’s residence. I smile at the thought of getting a brand new start for myself. I am going to try to get to California by tonight. I need to get there as soon as possible. I turn the music all the way up to drown out my thoughts and concentrate on only the road ahead of me.

            I get to my aunt’s house about forty-five minutes later. My breath is taken away by how beautiful the sight before me is. A white, three-story mansion stands proudly in front of me. Magnolia trees line a beautiful cobblestone path leading up the equally as beautiful house. I force my legs to move across the sidewalk up to the five steps to knock on the door. I rap my knuckles on the door and wait for someone to answer the door. I hear someone yell something inaudible to someone else and footsteps are getting closer and closer to where I am standing. My heartbeat speeds up a little. Will she even remember me? Will I even remember her?

            The door suddenly opens and I gasp. My aunt is exactly as I remember her. She still looks young for her age, and she almost glows.

            “Mira! Oh my goodness! You came to visit! How are you? Come in the house!” She gasps as if she cannot believe that I am alive. To be honest, neither can I.

            I laugh at her giddiness and bounce into the house.

            “You have such a beautiful house,” I compliment her; “it is almost as beautiful as you.”

            “No need for the compliments! We just need to catch up!” she leads me to the living room and again, it is gorgeous.

            She tells me she has gotten married to “the man of her dreams” and they adopted a kid my age that should be due home any minute now. His name is Brayden and he is seventeen, although he is a couple months older than I am.

            “Mom! I’m home!” a male voice yells out.

            “I’m in the living room, Brayden! We have a visitor!” Aunt Lisa yells back.

            I start panicking a little. I have not taken a shower in a while. What if her son is cute?

            “Would you mind if I go take a quick shower real quick?” I ask quickly.

            “Of course! Let me show you to your room,” she says standing up and flattening out her dress.

            She leads me up one set of stairs and down a long corridor. She opens the door to a breathtaking room. It is a lavender color with a king sized bed, a white desk, and what looks like doorways to a private bathroom and walk-in closet. I gasp.

            “Do you have a bag or anything in your car?” she asks me.

            “Uh, yes. It is in my passenger seat,” I reply still gaping at the stunning room.

            “I will get Brayden to go get it for you and set it on your bed,” and with that, she walks out of the room with a small wave.

            I can already tell that this is going to be an interesting experience at my Aunt Lisa’s mansion.

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