Her Revenge

Chapter 24 - Photos

The water falling down my back was hot. At my feet there was a pool of red and I couldn't help but remember the many times in the past where I was faced with the same sight, however,  back then most the blood was my own, not anyone else's. Maria had taken me to one of the many spare beds and ushered me straight to the shower. I didn't argue with her. I needed to wash away all of the blood coating my skin. I needed today to just be over. But I was certain that I wouldn't be sleeping tonight. This night wouldn't be ending. This pain wouldn't be ending, not until I finally get my revenge. 

Whether I am Emilia Morales or Viola Hart, my father continues to hunt me down. It is never ending. I can't ever escape him. My pain seems to be his only happiness in this world. The pain will only stop when he is stopped. 

I tilt my head into the stream of water, washing my face, feeling its coating of crimson flake away. Under the water it is silent. Which is both a blessing and curse. Here I don't have to worry about the world around me, it's just me. But that sometimes is the most dangerous thing in the world. Not the life threatening situations I seem to find myself in constantly. Not when I was being mauled on the daily. It was the thoughts that came with the silence that were terrifying, too dangerous for me to handle sometimes. 

Would anyone even notice? 

What if I just left it all behind?

Would all the pain stop then? 

Would anyone even fucking care?

I like to think that I'm past all of the sucidal tendencies, but I know that I'm not, and I wasn't sure if I would ever be. Sure I definetly am better than what I used to be, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm broken, and the pieces of my soul have been shattered to a point of no recovery. I would never be the same. I would never get better. I would never have my innocence back. 15 year old me couldn't handle that, didn't know what to make of it, heck even 23 year old me still can't. Sometimes it just felt like my life was just on auto-pilot. 

What was I even still doing? 

Who did I even have anymore? 

My mother was gone. I hadn't seen my brother in years. The only real friend I had was Nikolai, and sometimes I felt as that was only out of obligation. The poor, abused girl that happened to be the sister of one is his best friends that his father took in, that he was forced to take pity on. I had felt love once, but now that is only a memory, something that feels like a fever dream. The boy I once loved, was a shadow of the man he used to be. He was so cold now and he hated me. Part of me hated him too. For not seeing past my lies, both back then and now. For not running away with me. For hating me now, when I knew that no matter how much I disliked him, I could never hate him, my past self wouldn't allow it. 

I turned the water off at the faucet and I stepped out of the shower walking towards the fogged up mirror. Using my hand I wiped it away, so I was able to see my reflection. My black hair was clinging to my skin like a second skin. I had lost so much colour. Back in Spain I used to be so tan. Sure I'm not a pasty now, but I definetly am not the same skin tone that I used to be. My arms. My stomach. My legs. All covered in marks of my past. I knew that my back was worse, I couldn't bear to look at it anymore, not when I knew how bad it was. I didn't feel much there anymore. All the nerves seem to have been severed from the constant torture inflicted on the skin there. Sometimes I feel a slight burning come from the area there, a reminder of my past pain, a reminder of why I haven't given up just yet. 

Shaking my head I walk away from the mirror and to the towel rack, where I wrap one around my body. I then venture into the bedroom that the ensuite belongs to. On the bed was a set of clothes, just a simple pair of grey, cotton shorts and a black oversized shirt. I changed quickly and placed the towel back into the bathroom. I then searched for my phone and found it on the bedside table. Turning it on, I winced at the sight of the missed calls.