Wounds of My Heart

29. Death Flowers

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation, mentally preparing myself to not flinch. The door slams shut and I flinch even after my poor try to not do so.

"Where the hell were you?" My dad screams behind me and I open my eyes in alarm as I hear him getting closer to me. I'm so scared to see him, I'm so scared for him to see the panic in my face.

My body reacts to the intense screams and starts shaking immediately. I shouldn't be this scared, I should be used to it, but still I panic every time just by the thought or memory of it.

"I was-"

"Tell me!" He screams even louder as I was starting to explain. I jump forward, the further away from him as possible, and when I finally face him my eyes widen as if they haven't seen this a thousand times. He was glaring at me with pure hatred and disgust in his features.

"Were you whoring around? I'm surprised someone even wants to be near a disgusting and pathetic bitch like you!" He looks me up and down, clearly judging me. I gasp in horror at his cruel words. My own dad thinks this about me? Maybe this is why Jordan doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. Maybe he realized he can do so much better.

Maybe my dad is right.

"I was doing a school project at Jess' house!" I rush the words out of my mouth loudly before he can interrupt me again. I lied, and I'll probably worry about it later, but right now I have to. "I'm sorry my phone died and I couldn't let you know, I thought it wouldn't take us this long."

Tears are already falling from my eyes and I bit my lip to stop the sob threatening to leave my mouth. I see my mom ready to intervene, but I quickly mouth 'don't' to her and she understands I prefer it this way. When my mom is somehow involved everything gets worse, she always tries to pacify him or tell him it isn't that big of a deal, but it only adds more fuel to the fire.

My dad is usually softer with me, this isn't even his full on crazy mode, but it's still scary as hell.

"Why are you crying?" He says looking at me as if I'm the most pathetic person he has ever seen. He hates it when I cry or when I show any kind of emotion.

I don't answer anything and let myself cry. For many crying is for the weak, but for me it just shows how brave you are for letting yourself feel. Specially when feeling is a crime in my house.

"Go to you room! I don't want to see you!" I run upstairs as soon as he says it, and I don't do it to satisfy his orders, I do it because I can't handle another second in front of him.

I spend hours crying in my room, remembering every time something like this has happened before, making myself see how things have just gotten worse even when I promised myself I would be happy when I'm older. I've promised myself the moon and the stars in an attempt to scare away the panic in my heart and the memories disguised as nightmares. I've promised myself one day it'll be worth it every time I've woke up wishing I was dead but still managed to keep a smile on my face and continued clinging to that little hope that it'll get better.

I cry until there's no more tears and all I have left is a big emptiness inside of me.

I'm scared to sleep. The idea of being vulnerable, unaware, and the fear of what might happen tomorrow kills me. I hate the realization when you wake up and it all desperately hits again, you remember all your worries and wish you never woke up. It's like being brought back from dead and instantly feeling all the pain that seemed to have disappeared.

My phone rings and I jump, scared as if my ears forgot what noise was after hearing nothing but my sobs for some hours. 'Danny' is the name that appears on my phone and I feel so guilty because I'm not picking up. I can't.