I used to be scared of sunrises. A sunrise meant a new day, and a new day meant another day of school. Another day of pretending he is my father.
If I could describe how I was at school in one word, it would be loner. No one talks to me. I don't talk to anyone. I'm an outcast. The weird one.
I think my teachers are scared of me. I've been suspended four times, but it's almost not my fault I'm violent.
It reminds me of the one occasion I came home the day we got report cards.
Sure it wasn't all too bad, mostly B's, but a D in the Art column glared at me.
When I got home, I walked to the fireplace to burn it, like most of my report cards. It's just a bunch of letters to me. Yet He demanded to see my report card.
Turns out that He was an art professor, and that D was not just a letter.
All I know is that I didn't go to school the next day because the bruises hurt so much.
Later that week, He was going to head out for a vacation.
"My ex-girlfriend, Scarlett,will take care of you", He announced.
When she arrived at the door, I could see that this might not be fun. Her red-dyed hair was sloppily pinned with a clip, and in her mouth was a cigarette. Her eyes hung down like she was either tired or drunk all the time. Her nails were huge and filed to a point.
Once at the door, she flicked her cigarette at me and said, "This the girl?".
He nodded and Scarlett snickered. I obviously didn't see what was funny, though.
As soon as He left with his suitcase trailing behind him, Scarlett pinned her blood red nails against my arm and pushed me down the stairs.
"I", she snarled. "Do not want to hear a word from you!"
I walked into the bathroom and wiped the blood off my arm where she grabbed me.
I sank onto the couch and shut my eyes. I hadn't realized that I fell asleep until my growling stomach woke me.
Nervously, I walked upstairs to see if I would eat.
Scarlett was tapping away on her phone with a cigarette in her mouth in the kitchen. She didn't notice me until I was right behind her.
"Oh. You're here.", she said with displeasure.
She stayed silent for a second before speaking.
"Well, there's cereal in the cupboard."
Cereal for dinner. Odd, but I was glad to get food at all.
People remark on how skinny I am often. I wish I was wasn't.
It was only seven, but I had nothing to do. So off the sleep I went.
Early the next morning a pain seared up my arm. I fell out of my bed and something sharp kept jabbing into my arm.
"Hello? I SAID UP BIT- oh, now you're awake." Scarlett's voice rang in my ears.
I got up to my feet. More blood dripped from my arm. Scarlett jabbed me with her nails to wake me up, apparently.
She mumbled something about laziness before slamming my door behind her.
I walked into the kitchen and saw Scarlett sitting at the table. I coughed and gagged in the smoke. Scarlett flicked her cigarette onto the floor where several others lay.
"He told me about your grades.", she said maliciously. I panicked and tried to change the subject.
"Hey, how long were you dating?", I asked innocently.
She lowered her eyes to the floor before looking up and mumbling, "A month."
I tried to divert the conversation to her and Him.
"How'd you meet?"
Scarlett got up and slammed me against the wall.
"Shut up and go downstairs.", she said, her face nearing mine.
With a jerk, she let go of me and lit another cigarette.
I walked down the stairs fearing that my subject-changing strategy hadn't worked.
Turns out that my fears were right.
In a few minutes, Scarlett walked down.
"So. Your grades.", she said.
I pushed myself further back against the couch and stayed silent.
"You're such a piece of crap.", she said.
I looked over to the window and tried to ignore her.
"No. Look at me.", she said with her claws forcing my head towards her.
My body became numb as she pulled out her lit cigarette.
I shut my eyes and cried out in pain.
"Shut up.",Scarlett warned.
Pain seared across my arm the whole time.
Once Scarlett was satisfied with the burns she had made, she flicked the cigarette away and headed for the stairs.
"I hope you have been taught a lesson.", she snapped.
As soon as she left, I bit my lip and rolled up my sleeve.
Clearly etched into my skin was "twit".
My heart was racing. I stepped into the bathroom and wiped the blood off while trying not to cry.
I walked up the stairs but I met Scarlett at the top.
"I thought you knew better.", she said before shoving me backwards.
I slammed against the wall at the first landing before limping down the rest.
I thought I was used to pain. Whether it was burning, or bruises, it had happened so many times. I remembered the fear I feel when the crack of a belt neared me.
I hoped Scarlett wouldn't see me cry. At least around Him I wouldn't dare.
I did once when I was seven. I have scars on my back to prove it.
The second time around, it was when I walked in on Him.
All I remember was a woman. Needles. Blood. Tears.
He let it pass but the sight of his methods of torture is still etched in my mind.
I can't tell anyone either. But I wouldn't want to anyways.
That evening, I stayed downstairs. No amount of hunger could bring me upstairs at this point.
So I guess I'll never enjoy a Saturday.
Or any day for that matter.
