The Broken

Twelve: A scarring past

If my heart could sing, would you stay?
Would you stay and listen?
If my soul was torn, would you help?
Would you try and fix me?
Would you help un-break me?

------——-

"Why are you searching in my stuff?" He asked with his usual nerve chilling tone, the softness from yesterday disappearing.

She quickly hid the picture she found behind her back. Turning to face his angry look, her breath got stuck in her lungs. She screwed up again.

She wanted to know more about him. She was curious to why he held so much rage and hate in his heart for Jason. To why he was so twisted, so sadistic, so heartless. She needed to know who she's living with. But she chose wrong. She lost track of time, and he busted her in his room, searching his things.

Seeing him walking towards her slowly, she started going backwards intimidated, to get away from him.

"You have three seconds to answer me." He repeated, still approaching her.

A very familiar sensation invaded her body as she realized she just hit the wall behind her, signaling there was no way out, no exit. It was fear, her old friend, settling back in her brain, reminding her of the countless moments she stood there against the wall while a tall figure was blocking her path. But this time, it wasn't the same figure, but the same consequences.

"Show me what you're hiding behind you." He said, over towering her minuscule body. 

She knew better than to stall, considering the look in his eyes. Her shaking hand made its way to him, giving him the picture. It was a picture he kept with him all the time. The picture of his brother who he loved dearly. But it was also a weakness, that he wouldn't want anyone to uncover.

It drove him crazy. He snatched it away from her, and looked thoroughly at it before sliding it in his pocket.

"You still didn't answer, and your time's up."

She swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in her mouth as he rested both his hands from each side of the wall engulfing her in the middle, making sure she's stuck. Not that she would've dared moving anyway.

"I thought you knew better than to get on my bad side. But you're a bad girl."

She closed her eyes tight, thinking that it'll shut him out. But truth is, the one she was running away from wasn't him, it was who he reminded her of. The similarities were terrifying; he was using the same words, the same movements. The only thing that she could do was to pray that it won't end the same way.

"You're a very bad girl that doesn't learn." He slid his finger slowly down her arm seeing her flinching. "And bad girls deserve punishments."

That sentence alone catapulted her into traumatizing memories she never forgot. She felt all her body shaking, every cell paralyzed as the trauma was catching up with her.

She wasn't herself anymore. Not her present self. She went back instantly to when she was younger, remembering by heart how one of these conversations used to end, and the violence she's about to endure.

Expectedly, he grabbed her arm and threw her on the bed roughly, when she started screaming at the top of her lungs, losing sense of reality.

"NO! NO! DON'T HIT ME I BEG YOU DON'T!" She cried out, her hands held defensively as a barrier between them, "PLEASE! PLEASE!"

He hadn't even laid a hand on her yet to provoke this reaction. He stared at her shocked seeing that she was already crying and shaking uncontrollably, with her eyes kept firmly shot.