Broken Vessels

| Chapter VI- Cole |

| 9-25-17 |

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Hello, hello! You guessed right. It's a new chapter. I do apologize for not posting last week but I honestly didn't have any time to write and if I did, I was too exhausted. I'd rather take a small break to recollect myself rather than forcing a chapter out and it being crappy. So anyway, please enjoy! And I do apologize in advance for the short chapter. I'll have to work on making them longer. 

Warning: This chapter does contain abusive content. Not a lot. But if you feel uncomfortable, scroll past it and you'll be fine. 

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| Chapter VI- Cole |

*Deep inside where nothing's fine, I've lost my mind. -Avenged Sevenfold*

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I had work to do. I had to clean myself up and leave. To hide. To get away from here. Screw homework. Screw school. Actually no. I needed it. I needed it to leave this place for good. To at least make it somewhere, if there was still hope for me.

But I had to hurry, pack my bags, and leave. Who knows when the beast would come back? But where would I stay? Screw it. I've done this before and I could do it again.

Just as I was about to zip up my bag, the front door slammed shut and I tensed. Sh**. He was here. I scrambled to push the bag away. If he saw it, I was dead. I then hurried to lock my door but he beat me to it.

The door slammed open, the knob hitting me in the gut, making me reel forward while the monster continued to push it in me. I pulled away from it and fell on my knees from the throbbing pain. That was going to bruise.

"Weelll, lerks like yer in fer a rough one," he slurred as he cracked his knuckles. "Why were you in my way?" he questioned as he gave me a death glare. I gulped and began to cower away. I didn't need this. Why did he come home so soon? I was so close!

"I-I didn't know," I managed to get out but that was a mistake. He didn't like it when I replied to him. He raised his fists and brought it towards my face. I blocked it with my arms. And it hurt like he**.

But I'd rather get hit anywhere else but my face. That would raise questions that I didn't need. Questions meant curiosity. And curiosity meant stubbornness. Once curious, you'd do anything to get to the bottom of the problem that confused you.

"WHATCHU SAY TO MEH BOY?! HUH?! YER THINKS YOU CAN TALK BACK TE MEH?!" he roared as he sent palm after palm and fist after fist my way, making my bruises worse and adding new ones to me.

I started feeling it and if he didn't stop now, some bones would start breaking. I scooted away from him as best as I could, minimizing the hits I was getting in dangerous areas. Luckily for me, he was too drunk to fully notice and soon he stood up straight, caught his breath, then shuffled himself out of my room, never giving me a glance back.

I cowered away in a ball against my wall as my hands shook with shock and pain. Today my hands got the worst of the beatings and they would not stop shaking. This wasn't good. I lay against the floor for a few more minutes before I tried pushing myself, wincing as my hands were pressed against the ground. Sh**.

I quickly hauled myself up and lay against the wall, panting and trying to collect as much air as I could to my desperate lungs. I felt the panic starting but I continued taking steady breaths in and out to suppress it. I couldn't panic now. Or ever for that matter.

Finally calm somewhat, I made my way to the bathroom, ready to clean up and evaluate the damage the monster did to me. As I removed my shirt from my aching body, I caught a movement in the corner of my eye and I tensed, thinking another round was going to come my way.

But the figure of my mother stood at the door with pain and guilt in her blue eyes. I just stared at her with my shirt clenched in my fist. I said nothing and neither did she. However, she opened up her mouth but I shook my head and closed the door on her.

I didn't want to hear what she said. I didn't want to hear her apologize for something she could easily stop. But she was a coward. And I guess I took that from her. I didn't try standing up to the abuser and instead allowed myself to be abused. But did I honestly have the power to stop it?

Of course you don't you ignorant fool. You're weak and always will be a coward.

It was true. All true. The bruises, scars, and pain were all proof that I was a coward and weak. I couldn't do anything. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like if I ended it all. To leave it all behind. To feel no more pain or suffering or anguish. I could escape it all with one...small...action.

I banged my head against the wall softly to chase those thoughts out of my mind. I wasn't that weak. I just needed to live a few more months of this and then I could leave this all behind. Start somewhere fresh and try to forget what has happened to me for the last eight years. But can one easily erase something that's been etched into your mind for life? You can't easily drown your demons if they know how to swim.

I sighed as I closed my eyes and slumped on the floor. The tears began to fall slowly and silently and I wasn't going to stop it. Sometimes you just had to let them fall because there was no other way to release your pain and suffering except through small little drops of salted water. And it felt good to let it all out in the silence of the bathroom where no one could watch me and pity me and judge me. 

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