Broken Lives

Shattered

Lia POV

Never had a school day ever gone so slowly. Never had I been so pitied. Never so sad. Never so shocked. Never so alone. I walked home slowly, past the old garbage cans and through the littered back-alleys, waiting what seemed like decades to make a decision to walk in. To continue with the life I'd been living for so long, three years ago, we were ordinary. Three years ago we were family. Not anymore. Casting that sob-story aside I stepped through the door, back to reality, back to my miserable life. When I hear the creak the large oak door, I almost jump with fright. As I step onto the aging floorboards, I watch them lower with my weight. I realize that this is not what I want, this is not what I need. I don't understand what I did to deserve this. I hate this, I hate this so much. I never asked for it. This is so unfair. Life is unfair. My dad knew that. He saw to it often enough.  Why do I try? Why am I so useless? I can't even protect my own mother? I don't deserve to live. I don't deserve a life. WHY AM I HERE?!?! WHY AM I ALIVE?!?! I stop thinking about it when I hear my father's red SUV door slam shut. He's home, and by the way it sounds, he's angry, very angry.

I run upstairs to my room and slam the door behind me before that man can even walk through the front door. I quiver in my steps towards the bed and sink beneath the covers. All the anger and frustration inside me suddenly takes a huge leap into fright. My whole body stiffens and my breaths become shallow. Am I ... scared of my father? No, I can't be, I hate him, I'm not afraid of him, I can't be. That's when I hear it, the sound of wine bottles clashing together, I'm so familiar with this sound that I can immediately identify it as soon as it reaches my eardrums. Then, there's silence, complete and utter silence until my mother's scream is the only thing that pierces my ear. I rush downstairs to find my father about to raise a broken bottle of wine to scar my mother. One second before the glass lands on my mother's skin, I run in front of her and shield her from the pain that she was about to have. I hear the glass tear open my skin, I feel the glass rip my already scarred skin, I see the blood trickle down my arm and land in soft droplets on the floor until they transform into a large puddle. What used to be flowing through my body is now a big mess on the wooden floor of my house. I stand there, my eyes wide, staring at my own father did to me, going over in my head of what had just happened in the last few seconds. Before I know it my father is slashing me with this sharp daggered wine bottle and I'm running out of the house. It's raining hard outside of the house but I don't care, all I care about is getting as far as possible away from that man. Soon, I find myself in a heap on the floor, completely unconscious, with a colossal puddle of blood surrounding me, hanging onto a string that will determine my life or death.

When I awaken to the blinding white surroundings of the hospital i'd visited so often. Mostly as the patient. I see a boy around my age staring into space with worry in his eyes, I try to figure out what's wrong, but then I look down at my bandaged arm and remember it all. I remember the look on my father's face as he cut open my skin, I remember the blood, I remember passing out in the rain but I don't remember anything about the boy but he somehow looks familiar. He reminds me a bit like my father, his eyes, ears, nose, everything. He looks exactly like my father, but younger. How strange. I sit up in the hospital bed and he immediately jumps up, a bit startled. I wriggle out of the bed and sit on the edge of the mattress so that my feet are dangling off the bed. Rubbing my eyes, I say, "What happened?" I try to get onto my feet and walk a few yards to the door but just end up falling back onto the hospital, where I was at the very beginning. He helps me up as he says, "I found you unconscious in the middle of the path so I decided to take you to the hospital." "Um, thanks ... I guess?" I say with a hint of fright and nerve in my voice. For all I know, this dude could be a serial killer ... or worse.

After many failed attempts of trying to get out of the hospital bed and onto the floor, I, finally, am able to walk steadily but with a slight limp. Without hesitation, I fling myself out the hospital door and into the streets. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I don't even know where I am. As I walk down the street with absolutely no clue of where I am or where I am headed to, someone comes up behind and taps me on the shoulder, I jump with fright and almost scream, then he says, "Do I know you?" So many thoughts pass my mind like; I could ask you the same thing. But instead, I say, "Well, you look a bit like my ... father," the words just slip out, my throat suddenly feels dry, when was the last time I said that? Before I even get the chance to answer the question in my head, the boy immediately says, "Woah, that's it! You look like my dad too." This is weird. Maybe my father and his father are brothers? No, he never mentioned having a brother so that's highly unlikely. But maybe they had a falling out and separated so their families never even had a chance to meet each other. Eh, whatever. Not like I care. I would never care about anything that had something to do with my father, never. At this moment, I begin to walk away, but faster than before, but then he walks with me at the same pace, I start to pick up the pace and he manages to stay by my side, with a slight jog. I am frustrated that he can't just leave me alone, then he says, "What's your father's name?" I stop dead in my feet and stare up at him. Now that it's crossed my mind, I have realized that I haven't said my father's name for years, ever since he became an alcoholic. Trying not to get myself entangled in a conversation about my father with this boy, I say, "Oh, would you look at the time, it was really nice chatting with you but I gotta go ... bye!" Before I know, I'm already halfway down the street, the further I am away from him, the less nervous I feel. As soon as I turn a corner and I'm out of sight from that boy, I lean my back against the wall and put my hands in the pockets of my hospital gown. Then I hear the sound of a paper rustle, when I take it out I see a small lined piece paper - possibly ripped out of a notebook - with several different digits. That weird boy must have put his phone number in my pocket whilst I was unconscious in the hospital. I don't know why but I don't even hesitate to put the boy's number in my cell phone, I name the contact "weird boy" so that I know who exactly it is. Wait, why did I put his number in my phone, I hardly even know him and he's such a sick reminder of my father. It was like I knew him so well just by seeing his face even though I've never even met him if that makes any sense. Whatever, I need to focus on finding my way home. 

Author's note

Hi guys, this is my first ever story and I think it will be about four chapters long, please leave any criticisms, I'm new xD. Thanks for giving this story a chance! I think I will update further once I have a few readers.