"Dad?"I squeak out
"Shut up" he slurs. I know I have to get out of here but I feel guilty leaving my mom, where is she?
It doesn't matter. If she's not present he will get bored and pass out. Although, my dad has me cornered. I can't run downstairs. I look behind me and sprint into the door shutting it forcefully behind me then running onto the porch and up into the roof. He'll assume I jumped down, not up then give up.
"You bitch" I hear his muffled yells through my closed window and glass breaking.
Once it silenced down I let out the sobs I've been holding in.
"Kayla?" A voice interrupts my thoughts. Brent.
"Go away" I growl pulling my knees up to my chest. It is finally warming up in the day time but it's still cold at night.
"Are you okay?" He ignores my previous demand "you're bleeding"
I touch my head to feel a thick, sticky liquid. "I'm fine"
"No you're not" he frowns climbing onto my porch then onto the roof.
"Go Away" I say again with a shiver "you don't care"
"If I didn't care..." He says putting his jacket over my shoulders "why would I be out here?"
Honestly I have no response. I just don't want to talk to anyone.
"Wanna talk about it?" He asks
"No" I snapped. "Just go away" I say with tears dripping down my face again.
"I will when you go inside."
"I don't wanna" I whisper breaking down into sobs. He wraps his arms around me, letting me share his warmth and comfort. I lean my face into his chest, soaking his shirt but eventually calming down.
"Do you wanna come inside with me?" He asks
My eyes narrow at him
"No tricks. I promise" he smiles.
I sigh and nod. Not really up for going back to my bedroom. I'm going to have to clean everything up.
We slide down and climb over to his balcony where we push through his curtains. His walls were painted blue with a few trophies. A bed with a white comforter was pushed up against one wall and diagonal from that he had a desk with a few drawings and art stuff. I realize I have gotten a bit of blood...well everywhere.
"You can sit on the bed and I'll get the first aid kit" he smiles politely.
I wipe a mixture of tears and blood off my cheeks with my sweatshirt sleeve.
Brent comes back with a red felt bag. "This might sting" he says spraying a sterilizing liquid on the cut. I yelp in pain. "Told ya" he smirks. He then takes a gauze pad and tapes it on to my head.
"I'm no doctor, but it looks okay for now" he smiles
"Thanks" I mumble.
"I'm just worried you'll need stitches." He frowns.
"I'm fine" I wave him off. That just sounds like too much effort.
"Do you want new clothes? There's quite a bit of blood on your shirt and thighs"
"I... Don't really wanna go back home right now"
"I could lend you a sweatshirt"
I nod in thanks and he goes over to the closet, then throws a grey hoodie at me.
