~~~~ Hey guys, sorry it's taken so long for the next update, but I've been busy with exams, sport, etc. But it's finally here. Let me know how it is and sorry it's a bit short and lame. :(
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The door opened with a creak. It was almost completely silent, the only sound, the ticking of the clock which was placed just above the kitchen bench. CRASH. I turned to face the source of the sound. Glass lay everywhere. Flowers were in the middle of a mess. Mum's favourite vase... Oh god. Dad looked angrier than ever. I'd never seen him like this.
"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? I'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK YOU IGNORANT CHILD. DID YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT HOW YOUR MOTHER AND I ARE FEELING?!"
"I did actually. I just assumed you wouldn't care about me. Which is nothing out of the ordinary" I replied just above a whisper. "And I'm not a child Dad, I'm 17."
"AS LONG AS YOU ACT LIKE A CHILD, I'LL CALL YOU ONE!"
Did he just say that? I couldn't keep my cool. Years of being abused had gotten me ready for this moment, and he had it coming. "DAD! HONESTLY! HOW CAN YOU SAY I WAS ACTING LIKE A CHILD? WHERE DO YOU THINK I WENT? I WENT TO A CONCERT TO GET AWAY FROM YOU LOT! AND I MADE SOME PRETTY AMAZING FRIENDS ALONG THE WAY. ONE IN PARTICULAR KNEW ABOUT THIS!" I pulled up the sleeve of my jumper to show him the many scars. His mouth just dropped open.
"How long have you been doing that?" He asked with a new tone of concern in his voice. But venom ran through his words. He hates people who self-harm. He stepped towards me. I half expected him to run at me and start kicking me.
"A year or two." I bit back. I could smell alcohol on his breath. Great. Another night of drinking. I didn't care what he thought, he never backed himself up anyway. I was passed the point of listening to him. His previous threats ran through my mind, looking, searching for a way to escape.
"A YEAR OR T-TWO?!" His words were beginning to slur and I wouldn't be suprised if the whole of the neighbourhood heard him after that. He kept yelling and screaming at me, unaware of the fact that he was making hardly any sense in his drunken state. But one word stood out in all of this abuse. Ashamed. I should be a shamed of my actions? It was him who should be ashamed. Getting drunk every night and coming home at 3 am every morning after. Great role model. He's the one who launched my Mum into depression and mild anxiety. He's the one who made me turn to self harming and he's the one who made my Mum and myself fear his whole existence.
The next thing I saw was Dad launch towards me. Fists raised and poised to strike. I was knocked to the ground. After that, it was a blur of fists and feet until one strike to my head knocked me out completely.
I opened my eyes, confused. Where was I? My head was throbbing. Sunlight was flooding through the cracks in the kitchen blinds. I noticed a pool of blood surrounding my body, but mostly down towards my calf muscles. Instinctively, I reached into my back pocket, suprised that my phone was still there after last nights ordeal. 10 unread messages and 7 missed calls. 3 messages from Dylan, asking if I was okay and wishing me goodnight, one asking why I wasn't replying and one telling me he'd see me later. The last one was received 5 minutes ago. I checked the rest of my messages and saw that I had 2 texts from Pat, 1 each from Brad, Jess and Lani and 2 from Courtney. Most of them were asking if I was okay and the occasional one asked if I was ignoring everyone. I quickly sent off replies to everyone except for Dylan as he would probably be driving.
I ran towards the bathroom, climbing the steps 2 at a time. I didn't want to be just out of the shower when Dylan got here. I grabbed a fresh pair of my black skinny jeans and an All Time Low band shirt and my white canvas shoes and ran into the bathroom. The water felt amazing on my bare skin. It felt like all my worries were washed away with the water. I felt relaxed, and clean. Once I was out I dried and straightened my hair. I ran back downstairs, dumping my dirty clothes in the laundry as I went.
"Nice shower?" I froze. Who was in my house? Dad was too drunk to let anyone in the house, Mum wasn't home and I know I didn't let anyone in. I turned around slowly. I let out a sigh of relief. "Dylan! You really scared me!" I slapped his arm.
"Sorry, but I was worried that something had happened. You didn't answer any of our texts." He looked genuinely worried. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. Well..." I couldn't just tell him, I'd already put him through so much. "Yeah, I'm fine." I covered up lamely. He must of realised I didn't want to talk about it because he dropped the subject. Well, for the moment anyway. But I had a feeling that feeling of privacy wouldn't last for long.
