Broken Lives

Beaten

Lia POV

When I reached the front door of my house, my shaking hand rested on the door handle, so many things were racing through my mind; Is dad home? How do I face him after what happened? What if he kicks me out of the house. What if he hurt mum whilst I was gone. What if ... What if ... It doesn't matter, whatever happens, will happen and I can't change that. After that little pep talk, I gave myself I forced my hand to turn the knob, to face whatever was coming. When I open the door, no one is home, phew. Then, I see it, blood, on the kitchen table, on the kitchen floor, on a kitchen ... knife. What the hell did he do now?!?! I swear I could ... I'm unable to finish that sentence when I hear the silent whimper of my mother. I find myself running towards the direction of my mother fading cries of help, I reach the end of my journey to see my own mother in practically drowning in a pool of her own blood. My eyes are wide as soon as I realize that she was the one who had stabbed herself, multiple times. Her eyes are filled with depression that I am sure my own are replicating, as I see her lose her life. Tears are trickling down my cheeks, forming another puddle, this time not of blood. I've seen enough of that to last a lifetime. I watch her take her last breath, somehow it's a relief that she doesn't have to live this horrid life anymore and she's somewhere else, where she's happy. I drop to my knees and sulk as my eyes are glued to my mother's lifeless body. At that moment, my father strides through the door and shock spreads across his eyes. I look up to him and realize that he is not even shedding a single tear. Hatred and betrayal dawn upon me as I say, "This is all your fault, she wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for you. She would be living a happy life instead of being sprawled out on the floor, completely lifeless. I can't believe you ... You forced her to... you did this!" I'm raising my voice now, I don't care if he hurts me, he's hurt me enough. I can't take it anymore! He begins to step towards me and then I laugh tearfully as I say, "When I was little, you were my hero. I must have been so naïve. You have changed, since then. My whole life's changed. She's happier where she is now. God knows it's not hard to be happier away from here.  I turn my back when I say, "I can't believe I ever called you my father." Over my shoulder, I see the sadness, the guilt, come onto his stupid, drunken face but I don't feel sorry for him. I'm glad he's upset. He has caused  too much chaos upon this family. He has cost my mother her life. I hate him, I always have and I always will, no matter what happens.

As soon as I walk out of the door, I call Kat. The only person I could call a friend. She picks up on the fourth ring: 

"What's up?" 

"Can you come, pick me up ... please?" 

She's asking so many questions but then I lose focus, I don't realise where my dad is, what he is about to do, until it is to late. He hits me as soon as he walks through the door, I don't remember it ... at all. I'm confused and zoning out until Kat says, "What about your mum?" I'm crying hard now, as I stare at the cuts and bruises on my arms and hands. "Suicide." I mutter, reliving the memory of her mangled body on the floor. I can hear the silence on the other end of the line, the horrid, ear-piercing silence that I hate with such a passion, her breath is now shallow when she answers, "Where are you?" A breeze of relief brushes past me as I hear those three words.

Other than the sound of me crying, there is complete and utter silence as we drive to Kat's friend's house. We pull up in his driveway and walk up to the front door of his majestic house, past a neatly trimmed lawn, lined with flowers. An average house. An average family. Not for long. I can feel blood dripping from my arms. I don't even care now, I'm used to it, I've seen it so much, I'm used to the pain, I'm used to it all. Tears are still falling down my cheek as Kat rings the doorbell, holding onto me like I'm going to collapse any second, which might be true. I keep my eyes glued to the ground but when I hear the turn of the key in the hole of this beautiful birch door, I lift my head the slightest bit so that I can see through the strands of my hair. When he opens the door, I recognize him immediately, he's the boy who brought me to the hospital when my father hit me with the wine bottle. The boy begins to say hi but when he sees me, he ushers me in and rushes to my aid. I wince as he puts a bandage on my cuts and he says, "Sorry ... if you don't mind me asking ... what happened to you?" I knew this question would come but I wasn't sure when. Before I can answer, I hear the sound of the front door open and close, then I hear my father's voice in a sing-song tone say, "I'm back." My throat becomes dry and I begin to stand up and get ready to leave, when the boy says, "Oh, that's just my dad, don't worry about him." I pause and then carry on with what I was doing, then my father comes and sees Kat, "Oh, we have guests. Welcome," he stops what he's saying when he sees me. His eyes are huge and he begins backing away as I say, "Y-you cheated on mum?" I'm stuttering as I say, "She committed suicide because of you." I stare at him in disbelief and then I look at his son and say, "Did you know that your father is a cheater, an alcoholic and he was the one who gave me these scars?" 

His son is looking at me with teary eyes and then immediately his eyes glare at the floor like he's looking for an answer to this, somewhere. Out of nowhere, the boy's voice is tense and filled with hate as he says, "Get out," when my father does not respond and just stands there shaking the boy begins to scream, "GET OUT YOU TRAITOR, YOU LUNATIC , IMMORAL TRAITOR!" My whole body stiffens as I wait for my father to hit his son, but he seems afraid, scared, frightened, even petrified. I watch him run out of the living room and listen to the sound of the front door open and slam shut. Relief rushes through my body like a shot of adrenaline as I sink back into my seat on the couch and say, "Thanks ... brother." I see his whole face light up as I say that last word. It's amazing how just one word can change how a person's feeling almost immediately. My life has taken a huge turn. I have a brother, my mother's dead, my father's gone but maybe, somewhere in this maddness, I have found someone who knows what I have been going through.

 My brother's mother is nice enough to take me under her wing. A colossal smile spreads across my whole face when I think of the fact that I won't be bothered by my father again, except this time all of my dreams are becoming reality ... at least I hope.