Behind these walls

Broken

My body thumps into the hard wall of my house, chipping the creamy colored paint. I whimper but don't scream for fear he will enjoy seeing me in agony and hurt me even further. He pulls me by the neck away from the wall and suddenly slams me back into it again with a harsh anger. Light and darkness reeled. My head hits it hard and I feel a big bump form on the back of my scalp just before my eyesight goes blurry and everything comes out of focus. The land seemed to tilt beneath my figure where north was suddenly lost. Another blow, so hard that I begin to feel the warmth of my own blood on my face, travelling down my chin and dripping onto my clothing before a sharp pain snakes its way into my head and down my spine. I could feel every blood vessel within me burst and every cell of my being fade with each electric shock. I see his fist coated in my blood swing towards my body before it makes contact with my stomach. I look into my father's eyes, the only sign of rage was his aqua eyes glistening with a deadly calm and a dark vein appearing on this forehead. Every nervous heartbeat, like a hammer striking at my body. I suck in a forced breath, and don't speak a word. My voice, trembling and raspy, I could never bear the humiliation it would bring. My palms begin sweating when I see his eyebrows lower and his face replaced with a mask of Death itself.

I clench my teeth as the blood oozing from my wounds was slow and thick. Before I can catch myself, he pulls me towards him by my shirt,  ripping the fraying material and throws me across the room. Gravity pulls me down in two short seconds and with a loud thud, I make contact with the slightly uneven wooden floorboards beneath me, where dried blood from earlier encounters of my father's rage have been molded onto its surface. Every hit pulsated through my veins, electrifying each and every muscle. I keep my face neutral, trying not to give my true feelings away even though my elbows are scraped and my palms are burning from the polish layered onto the wood. It's not the worst pain I've experienced. I have learnt to shut out the pain. I realized the more I draw attention to it, the more it hurts.

He thwacks over to where I lay on the floor, broken without hope. He finally reaches me and without warning, kicks me hard in the ribs. Numb and weak. Numb from the same routine every day. Weak from never getting up, never doing anything about it. A pang of guilt shoots through me as I see a rug only an inch away from me stained in my blood, ruining the luxuriousness of the modern house.

"You're going to take that as a reminder of the ruin you have brought to this family. I trust you will not forget it, otherwise the reminder will come again." His voice comes out as little more than a growl, the kind a wolf would make at its prey. His shadow fell over me, as I scramble on the floor away from him. I could taste the hot blood in my mouth. He spits in my face, pushes me to the floor by my shoulders and treads away out the door, slamming it shut after him so hard the hinges groaned.

Time ticks by whilst I lay there, not having the energy to move, to breathe. Blood and bruises gleam on my outstretched hands, the colors dark. The house was quiet, although every noise shook my body like thunder, impaling me with fear. Dead roses crumble in a vase on the counter next to me, the petals brown and curled over. Every emotion raced throughout my body at once. I wasn't sure what to feel or think. Overhead lights illuminate every black shadow in the room. My head spun in every direction as I lift it up to survey the room.

Slowly I get up, my muscles shaking and stiff from the torture they were put through. Every piece of skin felt bruised, every artery clogged with lumps of dried blood. Once on two shaky legs, I use the back of my hand to wipe the blood away coming out from my bruised and battered nose. The blood comes out stark compared to my pale skin. I make my way over to the mirror in the hallway, each step sending an agonizing burning pain throughout my body. When I reach the mirror, I look back at my reflection, not at all surprised at what I see. My right eye is black and swollen, no trace of the beautiful aqua eyes that used to shine with happiness. The perfect reminder of my crime; living, whilst my mother rests in a coffin.

Blood is smeared across my face and there are various cuts embedded on my jawline from the curve of a wedding ring. Hating what I see looking back at me I head upstairs to the bathroom. Locking myself in, I turn the hot water on to full blast. As I wait for the water to get as hot as possible, I strip down until I am naked. Already, dark bruises are forming on my skin leaving a trail of them from my arms to my legs. Satisfied with the steam pooling out of the shower and fogging up the glass I step in and stand under the scorching hot water for as long as I can take. My light brown curly hair sticks to my skin in big clumps as I massage shampoo on my scalp. I wince at the bump on my head from getting it slammed against the wall so hard. I carefully scrub around it. Washing my face with gentle strokes being cautious not to irritate the skin further. Once I'm finished, I dry myself off and get into a pair of grey yoga pants and a light blue singlet and put myself to bed, knowing that tomorrow, it starts all over again.