Beaten

I was sitting in my bedroom, my back against the wall. The comfort of my bed was only a few feet away from me, yet I remained on the wooden floor of my bedroom. Tears slowly dripped from my eyes, staining the white blouse I wore.

I could hear my parents screaming at each other. The words they yelled were full of hate, and it filled my body with fear. My father’s voice was getting louder, as the anger grew in his body.

Mom, shut up. I thought to myself. I was afraid for her own life. I knew how my father was when he was angry, for I too had experienced his raged self. I still remember the day he held a knife to my neck.

Sometimes I wish he would have sliced my skin open. Left me on the floor to die. Maybe I would be in heaven, if it even existed. I don’t see how such a wonderful place would exist, when I had been living in this hell for my entire life.

I pressed my nails deeply into the skin on my thighs; forcing blood to drip onto the wooden floor. These wooden floors have been through so much. People, and things have been thrown against them multiple times. Knives have landed on them, slicing them open. Blood has even stained the wood more times than thought possible.

These floors have witnessed all of the pain my father caused my mother and I. They witnessed the careless actions of my mother, which often set my father into a rage. They witnessed the times my father has thrown knives at us, screamed words of hate at us, and abused us.

I wish I could go to court; get emancipated, live freely, and do what I want to do. I wish I could take these floors as my witness, and they would be able to tell the hundreds of stories they have gathered over the fifteen miserable years of my life. These floors could save my life, if only they could speak.

But they cannot, so as punishment I must live in hell for the next three years. That is if I can survive for three more years. I’ve survived this long, why wouldn’t I be able to take just three more years of this pain.

The suffering only gets worse. Once those three years are over, I will still be left with the nightmares, and horrible thoughts I have lived with for eighteen years. Even if I was capable of surviving three more years in this hell, I would never be able to survive the memories that came with my freedom.

I heard something shatter, like a vase being dropped from the top shelf of my mother’s china cabinet. I could hear a high pitch scream follow the shatter. The scream was full of not only fear, but also pain. I knew something was not right. He has done something to hurt her.

I could feel my body shaking. What if I was next? What if he plans to kill me? Should I be afraid if he does try to kill me? Should I fight back, or accept death? Maybe he doesn’t plan on killing me. Maybe my mother is still alive, and only hurt. I’m just overreacting.

But the truth was, I wasn’t overreacting. If anything I was underreacting. I should have picked up my cell phone at that very moment, and dialed 911. But I was too afraid to even think of doing something to protect myself. Maybe this was my way of embracing death. My mind knew that if I died I would escape this hell I was living in. I would be in a better place.

Or would I? What if time only restarts itself, and I have to live every single one of these memories over again.

The more I thought of what was soon to come, the more afraid I became. The more unaware I had become of my surroundings. I hadn’t noticed that my bedroom door had already been slammed open. I didn’t notice that my father was standing in the archway of my bedroom, staring at me. I was too consumed by my fears, to realize the danger around me.

Before I had realized it, I was shoved up against a wall. My father was holding a chunk of my long brown hair in his hands, pulling at it viciously. I could feel the pain shooting through my scalp, and I opened my mouth to scream.

Before any sound escaped my body, I could feel a fist send my jaw out of place; and my knees quickly gave out. I hit the ground, my nose smashing roughly into the wooden floor.

Here was another crime these floors would witness, and another stain that would paint their colors.

Blood dripped from my nose, and landed on the floor in heavy amounts. My tears mixed with the blood, creating a bigger puddle. I could feel my father’s big hands grabbing a chunk of my hair again, and I felt my body being lifted.

I saw a fist heading towards my face, and soon my vision became blurry, and I could no longer see. I felt my body hit the floor once again, and I began to scream in pain.

I felt something sharp pierce my back, and I began to panic. I wasn’t able to move, and soon I felt the object pierce my back again. This time I could feel it puncture me, and the pain was so intense my body fell numb. I felt the object pierce my back one last time.

My mind slowly went blank, and I lost all thoughts. My tears stopped streaming from my eyes, but the puddle of blood I was laying in grew heavily. I slowly lost all senses, but I could hear the noises around me.

Police sirens swarmed the house, and male voices spoke loudly. They were arresting the man who put me through hell. They came too late, there was nothing they could do now except for arrest this man.

The sounds around me slowly faded away, and I could feel my soul leaving my physical body. I lifted my head, and stood up. I was staring at my own blood covered body. I turned around saw my mother standing behind me. She was crying, and she fell to her knees.

She didn’t need to speak any words. I knew what she was trying to tell me. She was sorry. I walked over to her, and sat next to her, wrapping my arms tightly around her body. This was my way of telling her it was okay, it would just be the two of us for now on.

I helped her off of the ground, and we turned around where a tunnel of bright light awaited us. We didn’t know what would be at the end of the tunnel. We could end up at the beginning of our timelines, and be forced to repeat the hell that just killed us. Or possibly we would end up in a paradise. We didn’t know, but we were excited to find out.

She held my hand tightly, as we slowly entered the tunnel. The light slowly devoured our souls. We would finally be at peace, no longer afraid. We would only have each other, and that was all we needed. Our hell was finally over.