High Hopes In Low Places

Chapter Four: Survivor's Mantra

CONTENT WARNING: DRUG AND ALCOHOL USE, VIOLENCE, CURSING, REFERENCES TO DOMESTIC ABUSE

THIS IS NOT A STORY FOR THOSE UNDER EIGHTEEN, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

--warning conlcuded--

"'Cause my high hopes are getting low, because these people are so old, the way they think about it all--if I tried I would never know. My high hopes are getting low, but I know I'll never be alone. It's all right, we'll survive, 'cause parents ain't always right."

 I find that my time with James has been pleasant, especially since we made us official. It's crazy, I'm smiling thinking of how I'm his boyfriend, and that he's my boyfriend. Jesus, I probably sound like some schoolgirl gushing over how her crush looked at her for two seconds in the corridor... but, honestly, it is so much better than that. It is real, and for the first time in--well, ever--I'm not lonely. My only complaint is that even though we had scheduled a date ages ago, we never got to go on one because of the bullshit that happened. You know what I'm talking about.

Monday morning, approximately two months after the assault report had been filed. We are taking my parents to court, especially since my dad had been arrested for physical assault and much later, my mum finally came forward and reported him for domestic abuse. After examining her medical history, everything lined up in the eyes of the law and he got pegged with that, too. I did learn she was arrested for being an accessory after the fact, even though she didn't participate in the physical abuse. However, she was still, in part, an abuser to me. Never physical, but more mental and emotional. It hurts even more to think about that.

 I'm on winter break up until the spring semester in January--it is the seventeenth of December now. Today, I am finally going to confront my father, but at a much safer distance. He will be in cuffs, or shackles, or whatever and escorted by at least one guard. It makes my stomach churn to know I'll be in the same room as him again.

What will he say to me?

What will he do?

I'm laying in bed next to James as I mull all this over. It is barely three o'clock in the morning. I feel him move as he lays on my arm, and then I look over at him. The moon creeping its wispy fingers all about us gives the room a tranquil feeling, and it accentuates his strawberry blonde hair in an angelic way, giving him a faint halo. I can't help but smile and peck his forehead. He moves closer to me and nuzzles into my chest further as a response. He makes a small noise and then yawns.

"Mm...Darren...?" he murmurs, "Why are you awake? So late..."

"My mind has been going nonstop," I whisper to him, "Court today. Seeing my dad..."

I feel a lump in my throat and choke up. I can't speak for what feels like forever.

"You will be fine. I'll be there with you," he said, stroking my face. I feel comforted, but still uneasy. "You won't even have to speak. Remember what the policemen and lawyer told us? This case will win itself with the evidence we gave."

"I still have to give a testimony." I whine, my chest pulling itself into a tight, fearful knot, "I'll have to talk at least once. Answer questions, maybe..."

"We will worry about that when we get there, love," James says, sitting up on his elbow to look at me, "For now, lets just lay here. We can sleep or we can talk."

"Talk about what, though?" I ask.

"Anything." he says, tracing his fingers gingerly along my chest.

"That tickles." I chuckle weakly.