Savior

Prologue; IMPORTANT

"Shayla!" Mother yelled from downstairs. Normally I wouldn't answer her the first time just to piss her off, but she'd been in one of her moods since she woke up this morning. Not wanting to get smacked, I decided to answer.

"What mother?" I sigh.

"Clean this god damn kitchen, it's a fucking mess!" She screamed in her usual anger filled, demanding tone. Being 14 years old at the time, I was really stubborn, especially when it came to my bitch I was supposed to call my mother.

"Ugh, can't you do it?! I never even go in the kitch-" she cut me off before I even got the chance to finish.

"I told you to get your fat ass downstairs before I beat the fucking shit out of you, again!" She emphasized the word again, knowing that it wouldn't be the first time she'd beaten me. I can't believe she'd be so cruel and careless to call me fat. She knew how I was with my weight. 96 pounds is way too much for me, I honestly can't handle it. She knows that half of my scars are because of my self consciousness, but little does she know that the other half, she has caused.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I decided to wander out of my bedroom to do as I was told. As I peered around the corner into the kitchen, I came to find empty, tipped over beer bottles, with the label of Lucky to be exact. On the floor, on the counters, even on top of the fridge and some in the open microwave. I walked in a little further, something else catching my eye, a 2/6 of Bacardi 151 sitting on the stove, also empty. Why did she have to be a drunk? Ugh, it was nothing new anyway so I wasn't sure why it bothered me so much at the time.

With a sigh that was louder than I intended, I started cleaning the liquor off of the counter tops, the floor, cupboards, and whatever else needed touching up. My mother watched me intently for a little while, making sure I was wiping everything until it was literally shining. After what seemed about 3 hours, she decided to do her own thing leaving me alone in the kitchen, drowning in my thoughts. I took that as an opportunity to glance at the clock. It was 2:50pm and I had started cleaning at about 2:15 or so.

Still scrubbing counter tops and mopping the floor, I found myself getting lost in my thoughts way too easily. This was nearly an everyday routine for me, cleaning up my mothers trash, getting mouthed off about stupid shit, treated like garbage. I mean, how could one treat their own child like that? And why was it so easy for her to do that? The threats were what bothered me the most. My best friend always told me to go to the cops, but I knew that I couldn't do that. No matter how much I hated my mom, I couldn't put her in that position and I don't know why. I wanted this all to go away but I didn't know how to do it. I've always thought about killing myself, thinking things would be so much easier for my family if I was gone, and I also wouldn't have to deal with their shit either. I also wouldn't have to attempt to climb over each obstacle that life threw at me. The thought of dying scared me though. What if I attempted and failed? What if my dad found me? I wouldn't want to break his heart. I couldn't do it anymore though. I had to leave. I had to run away from it all.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, one of them caught my attention. Run away. That's it! Run away! All I needed to do was run away, away from all that bull shit. I found myself getting really excited for what I was planning. I would do it tonight, just after midnight if my mother wasn't partying. Tonight I will be able to leave, get away from this horrible place. Tonight I will be free. I was snapped out of my thoughts by my mother saying something that I didn't quite make out. Oh god, she's going to be so mad. She hated repeating herself.

"S-sorry mom, I was um, thinking about my e-exam that I have in a c-couple of days so I didn't q-quite catch what you said.." I awkwardly stuttered.

"Jesus Shayla, it's like talking to a fucking wall! I said... Can't you pick up the god damn pace a little? I want your ass out of here before John comes over." She spat.

John was her "friend" that came over for an afternoon quicky or two while my dad was at work. As I was quickly finishing up the kitchen, I remember trying to give my mother a small, genuine smile before leaving to go back upstairs into my bedroom, knowing that I wouldn't see her again for a while. Of course all she did was scoff and roll her eyes, typical. Little did she know that she'd never see me again.

I remember going to the river while her and John were doing their thing. It was my favourite place to go in Comox when I needed to process some thoughts and what not. After about 2 hours or so, I had my entire night planned out. I remember being so anxious just to go home, pack, jump out my window and never look back.

***

That day was very overwhelming for me. I remember almost every second of it as if it happened yesterday and I will honestly never forget it. That was the day I had made a life changing decision, leading to something very tragic that happened just mere hours after I had made that decision. On June 24th, 2008, the day I ran away, was also the day that I was raped while trying to escape my awful house. I'm guessing it was some sort of karma hitting me in the ass for what I had done. I remember sprinting through a forest near my house, not paying attention to my surroundings, just running as fast as I could and dodging every obstacle in the way. Suddenly I had fallen to the ground, hit my head on something, which happened to be a sharp rock. I heard a very deep voice murmuring something under his breath, then everything went blank.

I awoke in a hospital, 3 nurses, 2 female and one male surrounding me. They all shouted "she's awake!" Almost right on cue. They asked so many questions it was overwhelming. I ended up telling them about my abusive alcoholic of a mother, only to find out that I would be put into a foster home and my mother was going to be arrested. They must have thought it was for the best I'm guessing.

I'm currently 20 years old, still dwelling on something that happened almost 7 years ago, and I can't seem to let it go. I'm literally drowning in my own sorrow. It's suffocating me to the point where I can't take it anymore, to the point where razor blades are my best friend. I can't do this anymore. Someone please help.