Snitches Get Stitches

1: I N J U R Y

Warning: Abuse in this chapter

(Read at your own risk!!)

I didn't want to wake up. The unholy light of the sun came bursting through my window and had made me have to actually get up out of my nest of blankets to move the curtains closer together. By then, all my sleepiness had abandoned me and I was forced to stay awake. A small groan escaped my throat as I looked into the mirror and saw my brunette hair in a post-tornado situation. After brushing it out thoroughly and quickly, then putting it into my usual hairstyle and then changing into an outfit that covers the majority of my bruised body, I flopped onto my bed and laid there for a bit.

I must've been laying for too long because I hear my mom call out for me, "Clementine! Hurry downstairs!" I get off of my bed, leave my room, and quietly walk downstairs. As I'm walking, I smell the wonderful smell of breakfast being cooked. The nice aroma getting closer the further I walk towards the kitchen.

Mom hears my footsteps and turns around for a second, "Morning Clementine." She turns back around and flips a pancake. "Morning." I mumble, sitting down at the table. I lay my head on the table, and begin tapping my fingers while watching mom cook. "Once this pancake is done cooking I'll make your plate." She states and all I do is nod. "Is AJ still asleep?" She asks while waiting for the last pancake to finish cooking.

"I think so." Is all I say.

"Where's...dad?" I cringe at that, he's not my real dad, he's my step dad. My real dad, Lee Everett, passed away when I was nine. Now I'm stuck with Ed Williams, the abusive and hated step dad. Mom pauses for a moment, her body going stiff. "He's still asleep, thank god for that." She says, sighing deeply. Mom acts all sweet and bubbly, but as soon as Ed is mentioned, she becomes scared and sad, maybe even upset, who knows? Mom doesn't really tell me how she feels.

Suddenly, mom places the plate of food in front of me. "Enjoy." She says with a smile, I smile sadly back and dig into my food. "Thank you for breakfast." I say, my mouth full of food. "You're welcome." Mom says as she grabs her plate of food and sits down across from me. We both eat in silence, sometimes taking slight glances at each other.

I stand up to go get myself a cup of orange juice, I let out a low groan as I stand. "How's your legs?" My mom asks, a concerned look on her face, "Did you put ice on them like I told you?"

I grab a cup and limp to the fridge, soft grunts escaping my lips. I open the fridge and grab the orange juice, "Yes, I put ice on them. It relieved the swelling some but the pain is still there." I tell her, pouring the juice in my cup. I put the juice away, close the fridge and walk back to the table and sit down. I place the cup of orange juice on the table and continue eating in silence, my mom taking glances at me.

"You can stay home if you want, I know you're in pain."

I'd rather stay at school or somewhere than be in this house. I don't care if I'm in pain, I'm going to school. "I'd rather not stay here, mom. I'm going to school." Mom only nods, understanding. "I'm gonna put some ointment on your legs, maybe that'll help with the pain." She says, standing up from the table, her empty plate in her hand. I only nod, finishing up my food. Mom puts her plate in the sink and quietly heads upstairs to go get the ointment.

Minutes go by and I finish eating my food and drinking my orange juice. I patiently wait for mom to come with the ointment. I eventually space out, my mind wandering on things I didn't want to think back to.

Yesterday Afternoon

I walk into the house, my entire body soaking wet from the rain. I enter the house, hoping and praying that Ed somehow didn't know that I was late coming home from school. If I do one small thing, or make one small mistake I get hurt. I don't want to get hurt, I really don't want to. I enter the house to see my dad sitting in his lounge chair, a scary look on his face. I look to my left to see my mom working on a crossword puzzle in a crossword puzzle book. She looks at me, tears welling up in her eyes as she uses the book to cover her sad face. I look down at my feet, knowing what's coming next.