Recovery

Chapter 1

I look behind me while I run. Run faster! Come on Lexi, you gotta go faster than that! They're gonna catch up! I feel my foot step on my shoelace. I try to recover, but I'm falling. Falling. Falling. I look up, my blue eyes widening in horror and shock as they catch up to me. They're black hoods are covering their faces, and I try to scramble away.

"Too bad little girl," says a raspy voice, "it's too late now."

I feel someone grab my wrist and I wince in pain, knowing that there was going to be a bruise. I glance back and forth between my wrist and the hooded figure, the shadows of the rest of his gang looming behind him. They move to surround me. I try to hide my face with my free hand, but that wrist was grabbed too.

"Shoulda kept outta our way, huh Alexis?" The same voice as before asks mockingly.

He lets my wrists go, and releases the clasp on his belt. I glance around and am startled to see a familiar nose peeking out of one of the hoods. I'd recognize that nose anywhere.

"Max," I croaked. Then everything goes black.

*************************************

I wake up in a cold sweat, my breath coming in short gasps. I hear footsteps coming down the hall, and a crack of light appears as the door opens.

"Lexi, honey, are you okay?" My mom asks, her eyebrows raising, and her forehead lined with worry.

"Ya mom," my voice squeaks as I speak, "just a bad dream."

"Okay." She says, and examines my face, checking if I was really okay. I put on my best brave face and, finally satisfied, she sighs and closes the door. I hear her footsteps retreat down the hall.

I heave a sigh of relief, glad she didn't push for details. I know that mom is just looking out for me, but she can be really clingy sometimes. In all honesty, I know I shouldn't have told the police that I recognized my brother's friend Max after I saw him on the street the other day. And now he... I can't believe he had the guts to... To... I can't bear to think about it. They had taken turns, touching me in places they shouldn't have. Using me. Corrupting me. It makes me sick just to think of it.

I bolt upright, suddenly feeling nauseous. I throw open the door and run down the hallway. I kneel by the toilet and release all of my contents into the bowl. This isn't good. I convince myself. I have been puking my guts every time I think if what happened in that alley. I lean back, and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Two days. I wonder how long it will take me to be able to think of what happened without losing what little food my mom makes me eat.

I finish up in the bathroom, and creep towards my bedroom, staying close to the wall so that it doesn't creak. One false step and it's-"Lexi?" Mom calls from downstairs.

"Yea?" I call back, hating myself for sounding weak.

"Can you come downstairs for a minute?" Uh oh. I hear that 'motherly' tone in her voice. Better listen or I'll never get back to bed.

I turn around, dipping my head. I make my way - very slowly - down the stairs.

"Lexi honey, do you want something to drink? I heard you upstairs and I already made some warm milk to help you fall back asleep.

I stare at my mom, determining her motives. Her curly dark hair framed her face, and her slightly overweight body and short frame made her look homey and warm.

I carefully take the mug of milk from her hands, and start sipping it.

"Honey, you know I'm always here to talk when you're ready." She gently whispers, her chocolate brown eyes piercing my own. I quickly look down to my cup of milk, not wanting to meet her gaze.

"You know what mom, I'm really sore, and tired. I think I'll just head back up to bed. Thanks for the milk though." I quietly set the mug down and start the trek back up the wooden staircase.

I push my brown hair away from my face, and turn on the light in my room. I walk over to my full length mirror and examine myself. My long brown hair contrasts with my bright blue eyes. I'm fairly tall, which must've come from my father, who divorced my mom when I was two. He went missing when I was three, and was found dead shortly after. So I don't really have any memories of him. Right now it was just me, mom, and my big brother Brent. My skinny frame was wearing what's left of my brothers old t-shirt, which hung down to my knees. My legs were filled with bruises and scabs, reminders of what happened two days ago. I have a black eye, and my wrist still has a bruise encircling it. My cheek had a very clear shape of a hand on it, making it a bit bigger than it should be.

I sigh and think about school starting next week. I sincerely hope that I look better by then. I stretch, putting my hands above my head and yawning. I wince, the many bruises on my back reminding me that they are there too. I walk over to my guitar and touch it lovingly.

I hear mom turn the lights off downstairs and knew that I should probably go to bed too. I walk over and turn the light off. I sink down into my bed, and glance at the clock. 11:11. I subconsciously make four wishes and drift off to sleep.