Involved

4

I can't believe I punched him, it was awesome, I didn't think I punched that hard. I smile at the thought, they'll probably want revenge, I'll look forward to that. Very much. The day just drags on and on. Finally time to go 'home', I walk in a quick pace til I reach the street, my pace slows, my breathing tightens. The door I should feel welcomed into, I pull open.

I'm immediately punched in the face. He slams the door shut "where were you bitch" he screams the breath of alcohol hits me "sschooll" I stutter, I feel so weak. He sends kicks punches and slaps to me, he shoves me to the floor, "your pathetic waste of space" he screams at me, he sends a kick to my aching ribs, black dots cloud my vision, I refuse to black out here, "go to your room" he says disappointed.

I slowly drag myself up, I wobble slightly, I limp to my room, once in I lock the door and black out. At some point I open my eyes, still on the floor. I pick myself up, I wince in pain as I walk to my bathroom. I look into the mirror, purple and green bruises cover my face, I check my ribs. Luckily there not broken, I wrap them up. I sit leaning against the sink and softly cry. There's only one thing that helps me.

I open the cabinet and under the towel, I pull out my razor, I slice my wrist watching blood ooze out, I cut a couple of times. I quickly clean up the mess and hide my razor. I put on my red tank top and white shorts and drift off to sleep. Now you know why I don't call it 'home', this has been going on for 5 years, it stated when I was 12.

That was scary for me, I didn't know what was going on, I was confused. I tried to tell someone but they didn't believe me, they told 'dad' and I got the worst punishment, the one that haunts me today. The scar.