Being Held

Chapter 2

When I woke up it was dark and quiet. I limped to the bathroom. My ribs screaming from pain. I closed the door as quietly as possible so I wouldn't wake my mom up. I took off my shirt and looked at the damage.

There were dark, ugly bruises trailing up my sides. I turned around. They were on my back, neck, and face too. Oh no. Annalynn. I pulled my shirt on as I ran to her room. When I got there she was fast asleep in her bed. She looked untouched.

Even if my mom abused me, I was glad she never touched my sister. I walked over to her and climbed into the bed with her. "Hey... oh my... are you okay?" She asked, covering her mouth with both hands. I nodded my head and put my finger to my lips.

The last thing I need right now is for my mom to wake up. The front door slammed. I jumped. I crept out of my sister's room. "Lock the door. And don't unlock it for anything, Anna. I mean it." Then I crept cautiously down the hall.

My dad was talking to himself and rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen. "Why the hell should I care if her unicorn doesn't fly on the floor? Fuck. Oh me lucky stars. She's got boots that are fucking rhinos anyway. They got eyes of batteries and..." he trailed off when he saw me. "What the fuck do you want?" He asked. I opened my mouth but no words came out.

He walked over and smashed the beer bottle in his hand against the wall. Right above my head. My dad was a big guy too. He had a beer belly and a beard from being too lazy to shave. But he somehow had biceps the size of my head.

"I asked you a question bitch" the alcohol on his breath glazed my face and his words slurred together. My mom walked in the room and saw my dad, who had managed to corner me. He punched me in the jaw. I tasted blood. My mother joined in.

She spat on me. Then grabbed my hair and pulled me into the wall. My dad punched me in the gut. Repeatedly. Then he grabbed a glass off the counter and threw it at me. It missed me by miles he was so sloppy drunk. He fell over when he walked towards me again. I could still taste the blood pooling in my mouth.

My dad grabbed my ankle because he didn't want to stand up. Then he twisted it. Backwards. Until he heard a snap. Then my mom let me drop onto the floor.

I opened my mouth and let the blood on the floor. I couldn't move everything hurt. I couldn't breathe. 16 years old and broken, bleeding out on the floor. I tasted the metallic blood. My brain hurts. I can't move. I can't think.

I laid there for what seemed like hours. I finally tried to stand. I fell down face first onto the ground again. And I just laid there. I gave up. I didn't bother trying to pick myself up again. I'll just sit here in my pool of blood. That's probably what they want anyway. They want me to suffer.

I eventually went to my safe place. I put the pain aside and went deep inside my soul where no one can hurt me. And by some miracle, I fell asleep.

xxxxxxxxxx

I woke up to the sunrise. I could see it out the kitchen window. How can the world be so beautiful, but so full of pain too? Carefully, I picked myself up and limped into the bathroom. I took off my bloodstained t shirt and jeans. I looked into the mirror.

My bruises from yesterday at dinner were still there. Accompanied by a dozen more. I had a black eye. My ribs looked like they couldn't support me breathing. I looked down at my ankle. I had forgotten about it. When I looked down, I screamed.

My ankle was bent into an awkward position at an angle. It was limp and completely lifeless. For the first time that morning, I noticed the scorching pain coming from my left foot. I had to go to the hospital. I can cover up the bruises with make up. But this is not anything I can fix.

I gritted my teeth against the pain and grabbed my make up. I put on a bunch of concealer to hide the damage. Then I grabbed my mom's keys and left.

Sorry for any grammer or spelling errors. Thanks for reading. Please rate and comment. I want to know what you all think.