Happy Endings Don't Exist...Do They?

Chapter Eleven: Things Go To Sh*t

I am frozen on the staircase like a deer in headlights waiting to see what father is going to do. Father walks through the house until he is at the base of the stairs where he stops and looks up at me. The look on his face makes me want to run, fast, far. He points his finger toward me and does the 'come here' motion. I slowly proceed down the stairs one by one.

When I am four or five steps from the bottom, father grabs my arm yanking me the rest of the way. I fall down the stairs rolling when I hit the bottom. I hear a pop, then pain explodes from my shoulder. I curl up once I stop rolling clutching my right shoulder. "Get up," my father orders me punctuated with a kick to the stomach. I lay there gasping before placing my left hand on the ground to push me up. I am finally standing my right arm hanging limply at my side.

I look at my father waiting. I don't have to wait long. "There was a boy at our door, my door. This is unacceptable. Your behavior lately has been unacceptable. First a phone call now a person. What have you been doing?" My eyes go wide as he is speaking, ranting really, his voice gradually getting louder until he was yelling in my face, his nose almost touching mine. "Why was that boy here? Are you screwing him?" father continued as he paced the floor, while I just stand there. He paused in his tirade as if something occurred to him. Father walks to the cabinets grabbing a cup, filling it with something from the fridge. He adds something else from the pantry mixing it in as he walks back toward me.

Handing me a cup of clear liquid, I hesitate in drinking it, especially after last time. My father notices my hesitation and grips my jaw in his hand forcing my mouth open. Grabbing the cup from my hand, he poured the contents down my throat. Coking a bit at first I was forced to swallow whatever was in the cup or drown. Finishing the cup father throws it aside, letting go of me he stands back as if waiting. Before I have time to wonder what he is waiting for or what I just drank I feel as though I am going to be sick rush to the sink, knowing I'm not going to make it to the bathroom. I empty the content of my stomach, which isn't much just a few bits of crackers. I slide to the ground leaning against the cabinet after I finish throwing up, exhausted.

My father stalks over to the sink examining what is in it. Seeing the chunks of food caused his eyes to darken further in anger. "Where did you get food? Was it the boy? You haven't earned food yet you try to sneak it?" Father yells grabbing me by my throat, lifting me up until my legs are dangling from the floor. My hands are on his trying to loosen his grip so I can get some air. He only tightens his hold, making it impossible to breathe. I see black start to creep around the edges of my vision.

Just before I am about to pass out from lack of oxygen he drops me. I fall to the ground in a heap. I struggle to ketch my breath as I push myself up with one hand to a kneeling position. I didn't stay there long as he came over kicking me in my midsection causing me to fall to the ground...again. Using my one hand I made my way to all fours...threes...again. I coughed a little spitting some blood out as I did.

Not good.

He continues with his kicks all over my body. Some to my back, some to my side, some to front, over and over again he continues to kick me. One really painful kick landed on my thigh causing a scream to work its way out. I got an extra hard kick for that.

No sound, sound brings attention and that is what got you in this mess.

Eventually one of his kicks pushed me into the wall, causing my head to rebound off it. Hard. Black edged its way back into my vision as blood leaked from both the back of my head and my mouth. After one more kick caused my head hit the counter again with a loud 'crack' and I fell blissfully into the back.

*******

When I came to, light bathed the room. I was still in the kitchen, my body leaning against the wall. Blood caked the side of my face, pain racked my body, I went to move my legs and familiar blackness encroached on my vision. Pausing, panting through the pain I began again. Maneuvering my body to lay flat on the floor caused so much pain. Once again I fall gratefully into the blackness.

*******

Coming to the second time wasn't much better than the first. Light still lights up the room so it was daytime. What day I wasn't sure. If it's the same day, also not sure. I stare at the wall I am next to, looking at the blood, my blood, that painted the walls. This is the worse it has ever been. Father has never taken it far enough that I passed out during it. After sure but during never, takes the fun out of it he told me once.

I attempt to roll over to my stomach to better push myself to my feet. I am able to get to my side, swallowing screams the entire time. Lying on my side trying to breathe through the pain took a long time. Soon I don't feel the need to scream, don't need to vocalize the pain I was feeling, I am able to concentrate on my surroundings. I really should have done that when I first woke up but I didn't hear anyone moving in the house. In fact the only thing I could here is the refrigerator running. My father isn't here. He must have left after I passed out. But how long has he been gone and how long will he be gone I'm not sure. Furthermore how long have I been out.

My head is pounding. My whole body is pounding, pulsating. I need to get up, to get to my room so I can take stalk of my injuries. I take a deep breath and rotate my body so I am now on my front. I scream keeping my mouth closed. Can't have neighbors calling the police, which would be bad. Darkness starts to creep in again, I push it back. I see a puddle of blood in front of me, must be from my head. I brace my hand on the floor but I do not have enough strength to push myself up. I lay there on the floor, on my stomach, pain racing through my body. I begin to cry.

I cannot be here when my father gets back. If I am, well I will be lucky to just get another beating...not that my body can take another beating right now. Which I why I need to move but my stupid body is rebelling against me and I am stuck on the floor, my head in a puddle of my own blood.

I begin to cough and I see blood spatter onto the floor. Well there goes that clean spot. The coughing causes pain to reverberate through my body again; I don't fight this time against the darkness as it takes me once more.