can't help falling||c.g DISCONTINUED

one

"She didn't need to be fixed, just loved."

***

Skylar.

Just the thought of it being a Monday made me want to go back to sleep. I glanced at the alarm clock, realizing I had to get up. Usually, I'm already awake, but last night was particularly bad, and I didn't feel like enduring the endless drones of my teachers and their lessons. Honestly, I enjoy school and feel privileged to attend, but something about this Monday just felt off.

Dragging myself out of bed proved challenging, as my bruised arms weighed me down like paperweights. I surveyed the damage in my bathroom mirror and wasn't surprised to find a black eye already contrasting with my pale cheeks.

To take my mind off the night before, of the alcohol and the shouting and the hitting, I stood in the shower for as long as possible. Once dry and dressed, I braided my hair across one shoulder.

To cover up the extent of the bruising, I applied concealer to keep the blue marks away. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence, and I was used to the suffering. The house always smelled of alcohol, as dear old dad was nothing but a common drunk. He took his anger out on me; blamed me for my mom's death.

He would occasionally bark, "It should've been you." The fact that he thinks such things let alone says them aloud, makes me want to cry.

I couldn't call the cops, though. I couldn't risk my only relative being sent to jail. I was not too fond of the thought of those foster homes that kids without parents went to, bouncing between parents as I saw on TV.

He wasn't my only living relative, of course. I had my uncles, Daryl and Merle, but they didn't count in this equation. Not anymore, at least. Dad fought with them a few years back because Merle was into drugs, and they weren't the most civilized people.

'Dad was the youngest, and his brothers left him,' he says, but I always knew the truth. Dad told Daryl and Merle to leave because he didn't want to endanger Mom and me.

That was when he loved and cared for me, but after my mom's death, I saw my dad's second side, a very dark part. Take it from me; love can affect you, and it takes a toll on you if lost.

I never got to see my uncles, but I heard a lot about them. I bet dad is missing them. Since then, my only memory of them is a ripped-up photo.

And then, I continue my boring life, with a somewhat insane father. No one ever suspected the abuse I was going through. On the outside, my dad is always put together, presentable, and with a good job.

We looked like a perfect family.

The unbearable truth is the opposite. He'd prefer my death over my mother's. I am his punching bag and nothing more. When he sobers up, he will act as if nothing happened, apologize and try to make everything okay.

But it is not okay.

That is one reason I never tell anyone about what he does because when he treats me well, I forget everything he had done the night before.

I suddenly snapped out of my thoughts, packed my backpack, grabbed an apple, tossed it into my bag, and made my way to the bus stop without breakfast.

As I approached the bus, Skylar, my best friend, called my name and hugged me. We've known each other since we were six, and she's been like family to me.

As the bus stopped, we walked into the school, and the speakers blared:

"This is just an emergency warning; we are going into lockdown; everybody get to class."

Skylar and I ran to our first-period class, but it was locked. Uncertain about what was happening, we decided to head home. Skylar offered to meet me at my house after she grabbed some things, and we parted ways.

At home, I turned on the TV, and the news showed terrifying images of monsters roaming the city—the dead were walking. Reality hit me, and I realized I was not alone in my house. I hid in my closet, trying to escape the nightmarish situation.

But closing my eyes didn't help—it only made the monsters louder...