The Broken

Thirteen: Memories

"Doesn't matter how tough we are, trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home, it changes our lives, trauma messes everybody up, but maybe that's the point. All the pain and the fear and the crap. Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward. It's what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up, before we can step up."
-Grey's anatomy
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Pamela's POV:

"MOMMM!!" I screamed, praying she'd come in for once and stand up for me. But it was too much to ask for.

"Your mom is too wasted to hear you, don't bother." He said, before slapping me. It was so hard that i felt his palm in my bones. "How many times have i told you to stop sneaking out?"

"I WENT TO SEE MY FRIENDS! IS THAT A CRIME?" I shouted, feeling another slap across my red as blood cheek.

"I see you're raising your voice at me too. Guess your drunk mother didn't teach you better. But i will."

He pulled me roughly from the wall and threw me on the bed.

"No!! NO NO STOP-"
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"No, no! Please."
"Stop."
"Stop."

I tossed and turned in my bed, trying so hard to open my eyes. I was conscious that it's a nightmare, but it wasn't just that. It was a memory that came back to haunt me. It was almost as if i'm having sleep paralysis: aware of what's happening but unable to wake up.

Then to my surprise, a touch dragged me back to reality.

I sat straight immediately in bed, gasping for air, blinking twice to make sure i was back in my room.

And i was, and he was here.

"Are you okay?" He asked, sitting next to me.

No, i was far from being okay. And it was all because of him.

"Yeah." I lied, grabbing the water glass from the counter. "Why are you in my room?"

"I just came home, and i heard you screaming on my way to mine."

"I was screaming? What was i saying?"

Scratching the back of his neck, he asked again, "look, are you sure you're okay?"

I sighed. Can't he just leave me alone?

"You can go i'm fine." I said, trying to put back the glass but it ended up slipping from my shaking hand.

Ugh.

I jumped from the bed to clean the mess i just caused when his arm stopped me from getting closer. "It's okay, i'll take care of it. You'll hurt yourself."

I watched him pick up the pieces and clean the water from the floor, without anyone of us saying a word.

When he tried being nice to me before, it was just repulsing, and it was for the sole purpose of provoking me. But this was something else. Why?

He came back into my room after throwing the pieces, this time with another glass of water in his hand.

"I got you another one, just be careful next time."

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"Just be careful next time." She said monotonously, looking at me all beaten up.

I had red marks everywhere on my body because of all the hitting. Hearing her tone, i realized she was still drunk, and probably on some drugs.

What a sorry excuse of a mother.

"Be careful? I didn't do anything!"

"Don't yell, he's gonna hear you." Her dull eyes met mine for a second. "Go to sleep." She continued carelessly, turning off the lights and closing the door behind her.