A Thousand Lies

Chapter 17

Chapter name: wound

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Temperance

I stand in the middle of the living room. Both my father and the bitch circle me like hawks. Anger is visible on their faces.

I and my father have been like this before. I would stand helplessly as he would walk around me in circles to taunt me.

One abuser turns into two.

One punch turns into two.

I slouch in shame and look at the ground. My face is swollen from the hits along with my discolored body. My hair is a mess and blood drips around my eye from a gash on my forehead.

"Why the fuck were there people outside your hospital room?!" My father yells, shoving me backward into his girlfriend.

I can smell the alcohol in his breath. And the smoke on her clothes.

They had only returned a few minutes ago. They yanked me out of bed after ten minutes of being in a deep sleep

They are mistreating me the day of getting out of the hospital. How stupid can you get? You would think they would be careful with how much pain to inflict on me.

They seem to share one brain cell, they cant be stealthy with the mistreatment. Which is best for me.

Erin grips my arm, digging her bony fingers into my skin. I wince at the pain that is running through my body.

"T-they are j-just friends..." I whisper as her nails start to indent into my arm.

"You don't have any friends." He tries to punch me in the stomach but I lunge out of the way, taking Erin down with me.

"Those... a-are my friends.." I grunt, rolling away from Erin who seems flabbergasted that I brought her to the ground with me.

"You bitch!" She lunges for me, her hands slapping my face.

My hands fly over my face, "You can't k-kick my stomach! Y-you will rip the s-stitches. I'll end up in the h-hospital again."

Her brutal force stops for a second before she tears my arms away from my face. I look at both of them in horror as I watch Erin grab a small gun from the coffee table.

She cocks it and looks at me.

"You're so pathetic. We want you to die. Whether it's from bleeding to death or from a bullet lodged in your skull."

She points the gun at my head. Please do it. Please kill me. Death is what I want.

Waiting for my inevitable death seems like the only option. It's taken me a while to accept that this is my fate. But knowing that this will stop the torture I live with every day makes me almost excited to die.

One twitch of the finger, and I will be dead. My brains would splatter everywhere in a gruesome mess. That's how I want to go.

Of course, my funeral will have to be a closed casket. My face is already unrecognizable with these bruises. Imagine a bullet further ruining my face.