Beautifully Broken (in editing)

Chapter 2

I woke up gasping for air, shooting upright in bed. My legs were tangled up in the sheets and a cold bead of sweat trickled down my spine, making me shiver. My heart was pounding painfully against my ribcage and tears were streaming silently down my cheeks.

You would think that after years of the same nightmare over and over, I wouldn't be phased anymore, but each time the dream brought a fresh wave of terror. 

Mostly because they weren't dreams. They were memories, true stories of my past that still haunted to this day and probably always would. The kind of memories that have tried and tried again and again to tear me apart.

I shoved my fists against my mouth and took several deep breaths. I was shaking. I wiped my eyes and face, trying to wipe the images of the latest dream off of the backs of my eyelids. They're just nightmares, I told myself over and over. Slowly I calmed down enough to breathe evenly and rolled out of bed.

Padding into the bathroom I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

My black hair was tangled and the circles under my eyes were a bruise-looking purple. I look like hell, I concluded. Sighing, I turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up.

I stripped off my sweaty pj's and stepped into the warm, soothing water.  It felt amazing. I washed my hair slowly, procrastinating long enough for the water to loose it's heat and run cold.

Reluctantly, I turned the water off and wrapped myself in a fluffy green towel. The air outside felt freezing compared to the warm water from the shower. Wrinkling my nose against the frigid air, I quickly rushed into my room and closed the door. 

Quickly, I got dressed in some acid washed skinny's and shoved on my shoes, eager to block the cold air from hitting my skin. Concealer was applied to my wretched dark circles, my hair was thrown into a messy braid and a t-shirt was yanked on. I was ready for the day.

I stumbled down the stairs and sat at the table with a mug of much-needed coffee, exhausted. My eyes drifted shut and I exhaled, enjoying the last few moments of morning silence befo-

 "LILAH!" Ethan squealed, rushing down the stairs and lunging at me. He gripped me in a tight hug and I stiffened, frozen. My heart skipped a little and I shifted uncomfortable. I didn't like being touched, but hey, he's a cute kid so I dealt with it.

"Ethan!" And there's mom. His mom anyway. I call her Julie. She's my adopted mother and Ethan was therefore, my little brother. This was his morning routine.

His face went from overjoyed to uh-oh-I'm-in-trouble. His blonde hair stuck up in every direction and his shirt was on backwards. I smiled gently. He was probably the most adorable six year old on the planet. I ruffled his already messy hair.

"You better go before Julie comes after you." I whispered in the most serious voice I could manage. A smile was tickling the edges of my lips as his eyes widened and he nodded, dashing back up the stairs.

He knew not to mess with Mamma Bear.  

Julie came down a little later to grab some coffee of her own, Ethan racing back down after her. He came to hug me again but I dodged neatly this time. One was my limit for the morning. 

"Come on now, Ethan. You know Delilah doesn't like hugs." She told him firmly. His faced drooped into a sad frown and she patted his head. I felt a little guilty, but after last nights nightmare I just couldn't.

It's just that touching stirred up bad memories. Touching meant trust. Trust meant that it could be used against you and I was very careful.

"Well I gotta go guys. I should get some studying done before school starts." I informed the duo. Julie nodded, too preoccupied with the PB and J she was making to really notice what I was saying. Ethan screamed goodbye and cereal flew out of his mouth and onto the table. Crazy kid.  I grabbed my keys and jacket and left without another word.