Safer This Way

Chapter 42

Apparently it is still possible to update more than once a month :) Who knew?

Time for some Kota love...Happy Reading!

*Sang*

    I sit in front of the Christmas tree, a great big douglas fir strung up with white lights and simple ornaments, some with Marie's name on them. Any that I had made, or touched, had burned in the fireplace that first Christmas morning after my life changed forever. Sometimes, her gleeful cackle still rings in my ears, along with her whispered promise.

"Little by little, I'm going to erase you from this family. This is only the beginning," she told me as I cried, still unaccustomed to her cruelty at that point.

I turn my attention back to the tree, twisting my body so that my legs are crossed in front of me, despite how the position pulls at my aching sides which are a blooming canvas of black, purple, blue and red from another brutal beating stepmother had given me. This time it had been because of the boy who talked to me at school. He had only complimented my shirt, a vintage tee naming a band I had actually heard of, nothing untoward or perverted. However, this particular boy had been the object of Marie's attention for our brief few months at this school, which meant that I was trying to keep him from her. Marie had gone right to her mother, fashioning a far darker, scandalous tale and I had been introduced to stepmother's new shoes, unassuming taupe heels that I would never underestimate.

It's disturbing how numb I'm beginning to feel, how easy it has become to be used to this level of pain, this much hatred and anger that festers inside my home.  At 16, I should be getting excited about first dates and school dances, ready for the next steps in life, and giggling secrets over late night phone calls. Instead, I worry that I won't live to take those next steps. Instead, I'm an expert in first aid and being invisible. Instead, everything I am is a secret. I don't feel things the way that I used to, in fact, I find it hard to feel anything at all anymore, which is why I braved downstairs tonight.

My father took Marie and stepmother out to dinner to quiet their complaints of another bring Christmas eve with nothing to do. Marie was bored, stepmother wanted to be somewhere that I was not, and father just doesn't care. I felt relieved when stepmother informed me of the plans, not hurt or jealous as I'm sure she was hoping, but I had pretended to be sad.

Now I'm nearly enjoying myself watching the lights blink around the tree branches, and if I close my eyes and breathe as deeply as possible, despite the way it hurts me, I pretend I'm somewhere else. I pretend to be lost in the forest at first, until an impossible daydream takes hold and I imagine I'm older, in a house I call my own, surrounded by people that love me, all sitting around our very own tree. The picture is so unbelievable, so pure and so beautiful that tears start to fall and the dream takes root in that long forgotten piece of my heart that still believes in the future. I feel hope for the first time in five years, until the front door of the house slams open and an ugly voice shatters everything.

My eyes snap open to see my stepmother glaring down at me, but it's the freshly cleaned heels on her feet that strike true fear in my heart.

"What are you doing out of your room?" 

I don't answer her. Hearing my voice never makes it better.

"Did I not tell you that I wanted you out of the way? I don't want your face to ruin my family holiday!" She shrieks, stepping towards me until my father draws her attention.

"I'm sure there's a reason sh–he came out of his room," he placates. Turning to me he asks "isn't there?"

He always wants his questions answered.