Some Scars Don't Heal

Eleven - This Is What I Get For Explaining My Opinion.

I lay there, breathing heavily, whilst Danny slowly put his hand to his face to feel the damage I had done. I crossed my arms over my chest, watching him with stony eyes. I was holding in the white hot rage that threatened to bubble over and out of me. I had already slapped Danny once, and who knew what he would do to me because of that tiny slap.

I couldn't feel it, that thing that was keeping me alive. Danny had stolen it from me. My virginity was the only thing Danny hadn't taken, and he suddenly felt compelled to snatch that as well. Every thing I once had now belonged to Danny. I couldn't breathe anymore, so why could I still feel the air pumping resiliently through my lungs? It felt like someone had grabbed my throat and was squeezing it harder and harder. Wasn't it better for everyone if I was dead?

I wanted to die.

Danny looked down at me, his lip curling over his white teeth. He pushed himself on top of me again, and no matter how hard I pushed him, he wouldn't get off. That thing that kept me alive was dead, and with it my fear died too. So I sat up and punched him in the nose, hearing with hollow satisfaction the sound of bones breaking.

He yelped, and looked up at me, his brown eyes full of bewilderment, giving me time to push him off me, and run to the bathroom. He screamed my name and sprinted after me, but I slammed the door in face and locked it. I supposed it was lucky he hadn't broken the locks in the bathroom, after last time when I locked myself in here. The lock was old and faulty though, and I knew it was only a matter of time before Danny shoved himself against the door, forcing it to open. It didn't matter. I only needed a few seconds. I pulled open the bathroom drawer, reaching blindly for the razor inside, while Danny banged on the door with his fists, demanding I let him.

"BECKY, OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR OR I'LL KILL YOU!"

I was right. I was completely empty. No tears came, and my soul had left me. I sat on the floor next to the door, picking up the razor. You can't really call it suicide. I was already dead.

Danny shoves himself against the door one more time and it gave way. I didn't really care anymore. He looked around, gasping, and then he saw me. He knelt in front of me, his rage evident in his eyes. He slapped my cheek, hard, and I snorted with laughter.

"What have you done to yourself, Becky?" Danny asked, playing the nice cop card. He picked up my wrists and held them up to the light, watching the blood form little rivers down my arms. I removed them from his grasp.

"Don't pretend you care Danny, you...monster." I spoke harshly.

"What are you talking about Becky?" Danny asked calmly but I could see raging fire behind his eyes.

"Satan. Murderer. Devil. Evil!" I cried, my arms flailing and catching Danny in the nose again. He swore, and picked me up as if I was no lighter than a doll and thew me across the room. My body smashed through the glass shower door and I curled up like a cat, watching the snowstorm of glass fall around me. Everything hurt, but not as much as my wrists. Danny laughed, an evil sound, and then said:

"Becky. You have broken two of the three rules in this house. Hiding from me and defying me. You are an ugly little skank. I'm going to leave you alone now to think about what you have done, and I will be ready to hear an apology soon." Danny began to stalk out of the room and as he got to the door, I whispered:

"Before you only beat me, hurt me, but now..." I was quiet but I knew he heard, I saw him bracing himself for my next words,

"You destroyed me."