Yin & Yang

"It's time for payback, bitch"

Annette P.O.V.

            My eyes raked down my once unblemished body, now covered with markings. My golden bronze back was covered with a dozen or more pink scars. Some minuscule, others large like the one that ran across my hip.

I ran my hands over the puckered skin and winced, not in pain, but in memory. All of the other wounds have faded or healed, but these marks on the length of my back are permanent, a constant reminder of the things I have been through.

            It was past midnight when I heard him come in. The door slammed open and a freezing gust of wind blew through the shack he called a house. My uncle was soaked from head to toe from the storm raging on outside. His brown hair was matted to his forehead and his shirt was stained.

His glossy and beady little eyes found me huddled on the couch and he glared wildly at me. I knew I was in deep shit the minute the door to my escape route was brutally slammed shut, shaking the whole house.

            It was my fault he was so angry. I had stupidly told one of my counselor’s at that shit school that our electricity was turned off and I knew she had called him. He didn’t like it when I told people our business and I knew that. I just had to open my big mouth.

            “You’re in big trouble, missy.” He sneered as he started creeping towards me. I tried to keep my face as impassive as possible, something I had mastered over the last year, but the bruises on my wrists had just healed and I really couldn’t afford anymore. My teachers were already getting suspicious and I doubt they would buy that I fell again.

            He didn’t hit me often, really. Just when he had been drinking…which, wasn’t SO often. Nonetheless, I subconsciously sunk deeper into the worn couch as he neared me, a bottle of rum in his grasp.

            “Now tell me Annette,” He smiled eerily at me, sinking down to his knees in front of me so we were eye level, “Why would you go and tell your fucking counselor about MY business?!” He stood up fast and his voice rose at this. I learned to just say as little as possible in these situations.

            “WELL?!” I couldn’t help but flinch at his tone, my face still stone. His grip on the neck of the bottle tightened and I gulped.

            “She asked how I was doing…” I mumbled lowly and he let out a humorless laugh.

            “Then you should have told her how you were doing, and not of told her what was going on in MY house.” He seethed and suddenly threw down the bottle with so much force that it split into a thousand pieces on the hardwood as the liquor spread on the floor. He was really mad and I hated myself for my trembling hands. He continued before I could open my mouth to speak.

            “You know, when your mom asked me to take you in, I thought you would be easy to handle. Clean the house, cook, run errands. But, no. You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass for the last year. Getting in fights, having boys over, getting wasted. It’s no wonder your mom hates you. Compared to Charlie, you’re absolutely worthless. Maybe that’s why you were the only one to survive. Did you leave him in there to drown so YOU could be the center of attention?!”

            I was up in less than a second, my anger flared until all I saw was red. Before I could think of the consequences, my fist raised in the air and connected with his jaw. I pulled back fast and immediately regretted my actions as a feeling of dread settled in my stomach.

His head had snapped to the side and his face contorted in anger. Sluggish, due to the alcohol he had consumed, he turned to look at me before a sharp slap stung my cheek. In a split second he shoved my chest so hard I lost all of the air in lungs and I was falling to the ground.