Secrets

4

•F E L I C I T Y•

The man leaves my house, an hour and forty-five minutes later. I'm sat in my bed with my clothes strewn on the floor, bawling my eyes out. I feel his hands still on me. The way he looked at me, I don't think that's the last time I'll be seeing him. I slowly stand up, my legs aching as I try to move to my bathroom without hurting myself more. I look in the mirror at the new bruises forming all over my body. Everywhere except my face, my dad's only rule is no leaving a visible mark.

I stand there for a few minutes, looking at my bruised and destroyed body in the mirror. I go to turn the shower on, hoping to get the feel of him off me. I turn the water on, burning hot and steaming as I step inside.

I let the scolding water run down my body, stinging as it burns the cuts that man left on me. I hate my father, with all my heart. My mother is oblivious to what he does. She works too much and is only home for a few days out of every month. And my father takes advantage of the times she's not around. I feel cool water run down my cheeks as I start to cry. The salty flavor filling my mouth as I continue to sob with no end in sight.

After a thirty minute shower and scrubbing every inch of my body as much as possible, I finally get out. I go to my room and put on my sweat pants and hoodie, not wanting to see the marks he left on me. I sit on my bed as I get out my backpack, trying to focus on my homework. It doesn't happen, instead my mind wanders to all the other times he's let people do this to me. It's been years. It started when I was 10, I'm 17 now. It happens at a minimum of five times a month. And every time it happens I cry myself to sleep. The day after, I always wind up doing my homework in homeroom, not being able to concentrate after it happens.

I can't sleep in my own bed tonight, there's no way. I go downstairs, hoping my dad is already passed out and grab pillows and a blanket from the couch. I bring them back up to my room and just sleep on the floor, knowing he'll hit me if I sleep on the couch.

I fall into a light sleep and the faintest of sounds wake me up. My nightmares begin, just like every night, not leaving out a single detail of what had happened. I couldn't even count how many times he's done that, just for some damn money.

I wake up the next morning and go through my normal routine. Not smiling, not frowning, just there. Numb. That's what it is, I feel it every time this happens, but I've never put a word to it until now. I put on a long sleeve top and a pair of jeans with no holes, making sure I cover as much skin as possible. I put on the light amount of makeup I wear everyday, mostly to hide the bags under my eyes that never seem to dissipate. I grab my backpack and swing it over my shoulders. I grab the blankets and pillows off the floor and bring them back downstairs, making the couch neat. I hear Lexi's car pull up and I walk out the door, not bothering to grab breakfast or say anything to my father.

"Hey girl!" Lexi says happily. I put my mask on and smile as wide as possible. I lean over and give her a hug.

"Hey! How are you this fine morning?" I look in the mirror at my smile and my eyes, they don't match. I look desperate for help in my eyes but my smile is big as ever. That's why no one thinks anything is wrong in my life.

I go through the day numbly, I don't talk as much as usual but no one comments on it. I smile all day long and make sure nothing looks suspicious about my feature and my attitude. If someone found out what happened, my life would be over. I would be dead in a matter of days, literally.

My father storms into the room as I'm crying on the bed, my phone in hand. "Call the police. I dare you." He growls at me. "You do anything like that and you'll be dead before they even get here."

I don't believe him. I grab my phone and go to dial 911. He pulls a knife from behind his back, a kitchen knife, and pushes me against a wall. The knife presses to my throat, not cutting it but leaving a pink line across it. I put the phone down and my father smiles. He walks out of my room as if nothing ever happened.

I shake my head, trying to come back to reality. I feel my smile falter but I quickly put it back on, hoping no one noticed. I fight my way through the day, the smile never leaving my face. Not a second time at least. I need to save myself from these emotions.

I need to.