Dark Abyss

Chapter 1: Breaking Point

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

I counted in my head as I backed away from the banging door, its deafening noise making my ears ring.

"Open the fucking door, bitch!" David screamed in his usual slurred voice. His fists were banging the cherry wood door so vigorous, I feared the door nails would weary and fall off any second now.

Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two.

"I swear, I will fucking rip your head off! When I get my hands around your neck, I'm going to kill you!" His booming voice kept howling through the door, his fists still striking the threshold. The door's blisters were flying off and falling like snowflakes in the white carpet.

My body was shaking, my breathing rigid, and my lungs were ready to collapse. The tears in my eyes were pricking, trying to find their way out but I forced them back. I never cried, I was past that point. My palms were sweaty as I rubbed then against each other, moving to the forties in my head.

Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three.

My back suddenly hit the wall across from the door and I jumped from the sudden solidity. A small shriek of desperation erupted from deep within my soul.

Desperation for need. Need for a new world. A new world for refugee. Refugee from them.

My feet carried me over to my safe heaven: the small closet. Its barriers were flaky and broken, ready to fall at any hit. Every time I hid in here and every time David never found me. In his drunken state he came in, tripping and falling, then started screaming more profanities before eventually getting tired and leaving.

I entered the small space that gave me a sense of relief and security. At the same time, the room door burst open, hitting the white wall behind it with a loud thud.

I could see David through the small flush closet door opening. He grabbed the doorknob for support while his two left feet tried giving him balance. Failing, he fell to the floor on his knees while muttering a few curse words under his breath.

Raising himself, his angry expression searched the room and then turned into a grin, the dimple on his cheek popping out. My butt was getting uncomfortable but it didn't matter, I was already numb to the pain and lost of circulation. Small thin hands hugged my knees close to my chest while I rocked back and forth, trying to find comfort in the weak soul I had.

"Come on my little Annalise, come out." His tone was soft but raspy and slurred. I buried my head in between my knees, trying to dig deep and bury the memories that were threatening to suppress along with the tears.

One-hundred. One-hundred-one.

"Why are you hiding? I won't hurt you." He assured, the vow a sham, as the entire room went quite. The room was covered in a coat of silence so indecipherable, a chill ran down my spine raising goosebumps in my arms. In a split second his voice roared throughout the room and circled back to my ears.

"Come out now! Damn it! I will kill you!" His voice was of complete rage and loath as objects were being thrown across the room and comforters where being torn apart. He kept wailing empty threats in the air as my tiny hand fist the necklace around my neck forcefully.

The tiny circular form with the diamond in the middle was the only object that held power enough to calm me down in an occasion like this. I zoned out his shrieking, leaving a quiet murmur behind.

One-twenty......One-twenty-two.

My hand a fist, the significant necklace pressing against my palm, my heart beat started decreasing as the memories of another time filled my senses. The memories were muddy but not impossible to reminisce as my breathing slowed its pace.

One-thirty........ One-thirty-one.

My eyes closed as I stopped counting. It always helped. My panic attacks were more often and this by far breaks the record.

The room returned to its noiseless atmosphere and when I peaked through the opening, David wasn't in the room anymore.

I sighted and rested my head back against the closet black wall, hand still clenching the jewelry.

I need to get out of here. It has always been present in my mind but I never really carried out with it. I don't have friends who would take me in and who wants to take care of a 17 year old broken teenager whose abusive parents detest her?

I've been meaning to wait until I turn eighteen and walk away, never looking back at my broken past. Yet, as I count the days to my birthday, it is getting straitened. The fights are more frequent and the screaming is more ear-piercing than ever.

I can't hold on to this life anymore. The small thread I'm balancing myself on is ready to split. I need to run away as far as I can before they finish me up, leaving the pieces of a chipped girl behind.

Acquiring as much courage as I can, I stand up from the cold ground. My butt ached and my shaky legs wobbled, needing the blood to circulate.

I exited my small safe heaven and looked around the room. It sure as hell seemed like a tornado struck as ripped covers where everywhere and there was a broken leg on the wooden chair. I rolled my eyes and walked to lock the door, making sure the metal chair kept it in place in case any drunken, middle-age asshole tried barging through the threshold again.

Grabbing my baby blue medium size duffel bag, I set it on top of the mint green double duvet cover. Searching through the few drawers of clothes, I managed to get enough clothes for meager weeks. Which mostly meant I needed to assemble as much money as I can. I had a few hundred dollars saved for the precise reason of leaving this hell-hole.

Once I was all in finished, I zipped the bag and hung it over my shoulder. It wasn't heavy but the weight was something I could handle. A knock startled me, causing my body to jump at the sudden obnoxious noises passing through the wooden door.

"Annaliese Blaire fucking Brooks! Open this damn door right now or you will be sorry young lady!" And there was always Shelby. Her monotone high pitch voice was strong enough to want to make you rip the hairs from your scalp. You could never miss the tone in her voice that screamed 'I am trying to be a good mother but instead am a depressed women and shit excuse for it'.

She was always the one to scold me when coming home at 11:00 in the night but never cared when I was getting beaten by David in front of her. Her manipulation got every old woman in the neighborhood to think I was the troubled teenager and she was the victim mother. Reality was she was the depressed, middle aged woman who had a daughter whom she grew up to never know deep down.

With her ear-splitting screaming and door banging, I opened the window and stepped out into the rough surface that was my roof. I measured my steps while descending the two-story house.

My feet reached the green grass and I felt the overwhelmed feeling came over me.

I'm actually doing this. No more running til my lungs burn or hiding in closets. I'm free.

With the mere thought of never returning, my feet started moving forward. I had no plans in mind but returning sure wasn't an option.

And so I ran.

I ran forward without a destination or direction. In my mind, the thought that I had stopped falling in my dark abyss.