"I'm calling the cops," I said, rushing up the stairs to the phone. I couldn't bear to see him hurt her again. I got hit too, but my mom always got it worse. The excuses were always the same though. Falling down the stairs, she tripped. It was just an accident. She was accident prone. I was able to hide the bruises most of the time. She couldn't however.
He snapped his head, eyes darting after me.
"Dont you dare," he treatened. "You'll get it worse when I get back."
"I don't care," I spat. "Cunt."
I reached the top step and began running for the living room. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911.
"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?" A woman answered.
"My dad is beating my mother," I spoke quickly. I hoped this would be the last time if have to call them. I already knew what I was supposed to say. "He's probably going to come after me next. We live on 423 Mulberry drive, in Kliendale."
"I've dispatched the police and paramedics to your locat-"
"Great," I interrupted. I heard heavy footsteps lumbering up the stairs. "He's coming to hit me now. I have to go. Please make sure they get here."
I hung up on her and flung the phone across the room, just as his angry, contorted face peered through the doorway.
"I'm going to kill you," he growled. "I'm going to mother fucking kill you. You goddamned little bastard." That's when I noticed the scissors in his hands. No. That can't be. He saw my eyes fall over them. He brought them up from his side.
"Oh," he said, an awful smirk spreading over his face. "You see these? I'm the doctor and your the patient. It's a little game I like to call 'surgery."
"You're a psychopath," I breathed. "You're crazy. You're mental. You fucking crazy, psychotic dick."
"Are your insides pretty?" he asked, slowly approaching me with the scissors pointed at me. "I just want to see what your inside look like. I bet your not very pretty on the inside either." He kicked me down, and pulled my shirt up, letting the blade harshly graze my bare stomach. I grimaced at the pain, and tried pushing him away. When I did, the scissors just jagged into my skin a bit more. He took the scissors off my skin, watching as blood dripped from them. He smiled wickedly at it. Just as he was about to stab my chest, a loud crash came from down the stairs. A group of policemen ran up to us, with guns pointed at us. Blood trickled down my abdomen, polling on the floor. The red stained the white carpet.
"Put your hands up!" one of the officers yelled at my father. He didn't put his hands up. He started blankly at the officer. "Now!" said the officer.
Silence fell over the room. My dad wasn't complying. In one quick motion, he raised the scissors over his head, about to plunge into me. They slipped from his fringers and onto the floor, following a loud gunshot. The oldest officer had shot him in the leg.
"FUCK!" My father screamed, clutching his leg. Swifly, three officers cuffed him and dragged him down stairs. A group of paramedics loaded my body onto a gurney, and shuffled me into an ambulance. The world got kind of blurry and dizzy after that.
+++++++++++++++++++
"I'm so sorry Frank," mom sobbed, grasping my hand from the side if my hospital bed. I just had to get stitches as well as get hooked up to an IV and stay a night to help with the blood loss, but mom was always overly concerned.
"It's fine," I said. "Calm down."
"This is all my fault," she sniffled.
"Why'd you stay with him?" I asked.
YOU ARE READING
When We Part (on hold)
Fiksi Penggemar'He was different, right off the bat. You could just tell there was something wrong with him. His eyes were too sunken in, and glassy. He was oddly pale for the burning summer. He was too jumpy, and anxious. He was so... Strange. Normally I didn't...
