Eli Borrelli

37: letting go

Eli POV.

It was Thursday and I had been getting ready for the concert with my friends, who agreed to be my band for the night. Every day after school, we went to a rehearsal space and started playing. I must admit, I was pretty strict, but I had a clear vision of how things should be done, and I knew how it would work. I had to wear my mask in rehearsals, which was annoying but I wasn't going to reveal my identity to people, who I hadn't met before in real life.

I had been talking with Jess every day, and we agreed to go out for dinner before the concert, as our third date. We were getting more careless about our PDA in school, as we held hands and Jess occasionally sat on my lap at lunch, but nobody had asked about us being together yet, so we didn't discuss it with the others. At least until we were sure of it ourselves, which was hard to determine. I was sure, that I wanted to go out with her, but I didn't know what they thought.

I was getting really close with my brothers, which I never anticipated. I don't even know when it really happened or how, but I guess they really became my family, and not just by blood.

They knew pretty much everything about my life, that mattered, but I still had a lot of things to talk to them about, which made me feel really guilty. I was still scared, I always had been, even tho I didn't know why. I knew they wouldn't throw me out, or hurt me, but still, that voice in my head kept on screaming at me to shut up.

"I think I'm ready to talk to you guys more about what happened with my parents," I said while we were all sitting in the living room.

Lorenzo put down his boo, and Matteo closed his computer, as they all leaned in to listen. 

I took a deep breath and started:

"It was always just them telling me how worthless I was. For as long as I can remember, they always wanted more from me, and I did whatever I could to be their perfect daughter. It still wasn't enough, so they started hitting me. At first, it was just the occasional slap or something like that, but by the time I was nine, it was the belt and kicking me around."

I took a break preparing myself to go deeper into the more painful memories.

"When that didn't fix me, they started throwing things at me or throwing me at things like the wall or furniture. One day, that wasn't enough, so my dad... he took this knife, and- and he showed me how to cut myself," I said barely whispering at the end, but my brothers heard me.

"He placed the knife in my hand and pushed it into my arm. Then he told me to do it, and that was my punishment from then on. If I didn't do it well enough, he did it and... I didn't want him to do it," I said falling deeper into my memories.

"You worthless pig! You can't even do this correctly!" he yelled, roughly taking a hold of my hand and pressing the blade down onto my arm.

As the crimson liquid started oozing from under the blade, he roughly pulled it to the side leaving a deep cut across my arm. I wanted to scream from the pain, but I knew better by then, so I bit my lip and just watched as my blood poured out of my arm.

"Now! Do it again!" he yelled getting back up.

My arm was trebling as I lifted the knife. I was too fragile to move right, so my movements were slow and weak.

"Give me that!" my mother screamed grabbing the blade from my hand.

I knew what would happen next, so I prepared myself. I didn't let the tears fall or a single word leave my mouth, still, I cried out to the world, and prayed for someone to save me.