16 year old Alyne Montgomery's life is far from perfect. With her playing the role of a perfect family, even with her mother dead and perfect brother at collage. Leaving her with an angry father. Whose abuse is getting harder to handle. She wants to...
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"And sometimes that sadness gets so deep in your heart, that you can't even cry." -Vishal Rastogi
~Lina~
My side stings as I dap the wet wash cloth on the cut. It's always worse when he's wearing rings. They cut against skin like a knife. I blame myself for wearing a shirt that exposed skin. I set the rag down for a minute to take a drink of the whisky that's sitting next to me on the floor. It stings in my throat but I'm used to it. I pick the rag back up.
The blood just won't stop. Peeping through the cut and falling down my side. I just need it to stop long enough to wrap it.
When it finally decides it wants to slow down, I quickly place gauze on the cut and wrap medical tape around my torso to keep it there. It was too big for any of the band aids I have.
Once I'm done I grab the bloody rag and whisky, and stand up. Wincing at the pain in my side and the pounding in my head. I grab the counter for support and close my eyes. Waiting for it to stop. When it doesn't, I take another drink, hoping it'll numb it.
After making sure I didn't hear anything on the other side of the bathroom door, I slowly open it. Throwing the bloody rag in the trash before I leave. With one hand against the wall I make my way to my room.
I shut my door behind me and lock it. My knees start to give out and I slid to the floor. I lay my head against the door and drink the rest of the whisky left. I set the bottle next to me.
Within a few minutes the pounding in my head starts to go away, and my thoughts get clouded. The voices at a whisper.
I slowly stand up from the floor and wobble. I rest against the wall as I kick my shoes off and wiggle out of my jeans. It feels like I'm floating. I risk standing off the wall to take my shirt off, that already has reddish-brown blood stained on the hem. While trying to walk to my closet to get a t-shirt, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. A body full of scars and bruises. Some I made and others put on me. The biggest one it on my right leg. It runs from my mid thigh all the way down to my ankle. I got it in the crash. It is ugly, and it is a reminder that all the other ones I deserve.
Tears start running down my face. I step away from the mirror and open my closet door. I grab the first t-shirt I touch and throw it on. It's big, and falls just above my knees. I don't bother putting on pants.
The tears still fall as I close the door, and walk to my bed. I crawl in it and wrap my light blue comforter around me. The tears still fall as the alcohol does it's magic and I finally fall asleep.
~~~
A scream dies on my lips as I jerk up. Sweat is bedded on my forehead. My body shaking and my head is pounding. I try to even by breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I close my eyes, but the images from my nightmare come back so I reopen them.
