Girlfriend On Mars

19. "They don't love me"

Nineteen.

"They don't love me."

(tw for abuse)

"You're a fucking eyesore, get out of my sight." Mrs Rhodes spat, the heel of her shoes stabbing centre into Marley's back.

Her daughter only fell forward, chin hitting the tile of the kitchen floor, too weak to run. Like she should have. She whimpered quietly, arms bending clunkily to push herself up.

"Oh no, you better not get blood on my kitchen floor. Didn't I just say, get out of my fucking sight?" Her mother hissed, powerfully landing her heel again to Marley's spine.

The girl let out a strangled cry of pain as her mother ground the thin edge into her skin, twisting and breaking the flesh under her shirt. She wanted to cry for her to stop but it would do her no good. Her mother was drunk beyond reason and intensely angry as she would usually get—but Marley would never feel ready for the pain.

Her father was just in the other room, probably doped up into his regular catatonic state. At that time, he would only be a half-corpse in the house, an indirect accomplice to the torture that occurred. As much as Marley wished she could call out to him like he was a savoir, she knew he loved her even less that of her wicked mother.

"Please..." Marley attempted to speak. "Let me go... I'll .... go."

Her mother kicked the small of her back and stepped back from Marley's injured body. She then spat, a thick blob landing in the blonde's unruly hair.

She wondered sometimes why they didn't just kill her, why they never touched her face so no one could suspect, why they didn't just give her up to authorities or social services. They were too worried about their image, and that was all the narcissistic couple seemed to care about.

Marley felt the blood rushing in her ears as she scrambled up, managing after losing her footing a few times to stand and step back from her mother. But the woman was too drunk to pay any more attention to the situation and fortunately for her daughter, she just turned back to her alcohol. Marley didn't need to be told anything; she was already hurrying away from the kitchen as quick as she could.

It was a bad night, one of the worse nights in a while. Her back felt hot with stinging, exposed pain, her legs were stiff and slow to move, and her jaw ached with a dull throbbing sensation. That night her mother had punched her, for the first time she'd hit her face but not hard enough to be visibly noticed.

Marley could feel tears welling in her vision, but they wouldn't fall. They just remained, warm and uncomfortable along her eyelids. She pushed into her bedroom, panting and heaving. Without a lock on her the door, all she could door was prop a chair up against the handle and crawl under the covers. Wait the night out with tears and stifled sobs, as she usually would.

It was nights like those that she realised how truly alone she was in the world, a human being lacking the love they so craved. She felt no one could ever love her truly, not deeply, not meaningfully like she wished someone would. Even Marley herself had never really felt true love or even a proper crush and she'd always longed to have one, longed to enjoy all the things that girls spoke so excitedly about; the hand holding, happy kisses, sleeping close, going on dates, romantic promises. She wanted an easy love that would love her as equally as she needed. That was until she met Jen, the new interest in her life that had rocked it in a way that definitely wasn't easy. That was a crush she highly doubted could ever go right for her.

But a crush? Marley had never really had one, a few fluttery feelings of admiration with freshman and middle school boyfriends couldn't really count. This crush was more exciting, rawer than anything she'd felt and way more dangerous and unpredictable. How could anyone, especially Jen, reciprocate any feelings for her? She felt utterly unlovable and worthless.