Finding her way •Braxton Sister•

Chapter 5

His deep, raspy voice frightened me out of my daze as I pulled away roughly, tripping over a chair and falling to the floor. The chair fell down with me, clattering as it hit the floor causing customers and workers alike to turn around and look over, curious as to what was happening.
Kyle came from our the kitchen, his head snapping over in my direction before walking swiftly towards me. I focused my gaze on the floor, breath heavy and panicked.
A hand gripped my shoulder causing me to flinch away from the touch, grabbing the first thing next to me to pull myself off of the ground. I'd only just come to notice that Mark had quickly left the restaurant and Brax had appeared from the office, looking down at me worriedly, attempting to reach out and comfort me.
I recoiled from his touch, head swirling frantically before I turned to run out of the door, legs working to take me as far as I could go, refusing to stop despite the shouts from my brothers behind me.
My feet carried me all the way to the house, stopping on the door step and panting heavily as I put my back to the door, sliding myself down upon realising I'd left my keys at the restaurant. I pulled my legs to my chest, hands wrapped around my body, head resting on my knees. Now that I had stopped, was motionless in one place, the tears began to fall down my cheeks as I remembered what had just happened, reminisced over the past hour or so, as well as the rest of my life.
I hadn't told my brothers about much of my life back home, for good reason. I'd mentioned my mother, told them how much she loved me and how she'd raised me on her own my entire life, knowing that was only partly true. She had raised me on her own until I was 12, until she met Mark.
Mark. He was wonderful to begin with, taking her out on dates and treating us constantly. He made her genuinely happy, me too. Mum hadn't had a proper long term boyfriend, and to see her enjoying herself made me so happy for her. After several months they had truly connected, and mum had asked him to move in. I had my wearies at first, with the change being a nerve-wracking one, but I just wanted what was best for mum, that was all, and he was best for her.
But then he slacked more, showed his annoyance at me constantly, getting angry at any point around the house. I tried to avoid him at most times, just to prevent any potential arguments but I couldn't avoid him all the time, not when he was in my house, around me at all times.
He'd come home drunk one night after a rough day at work. Mum was out with some of her friends from work, leaving me to deal with Mark alone. My original plan was to stay in my room until he'd passed out on the couch or gone to his own room, but things didn't play out like that. He'd been shouting and stumbling around in the kitchen, knocking things over left right and centre, and from my own lack of common sense I'd decided upon going to see what he was doing. That's when the shouting came, constant streams of abuse coming from his mouth towards me, and I'd thought that shouting back would work. Big mistake.
That was the first time he'd hit me. Not the last, certainly not.
From that point on I was his toy, his punching bag, something he used to get his anger out. The first few times I had fought back, but that stopped once I realised it only made things worse. Mum didn't know about any of it, and I wanted to keep it that way through fear he would start to hit her once she found out. So I kept it to myself, wearing long sleeves, jackets and trousers to cover the bruises littering my limbs. Mark was clever about it all, however angry he got he knew to never hit my face. I lied my way through almost a year of my life without anyone knowing, managing to cover the cuts and bruises easily as well as knowing exactly what lies to tell if anyone saw them. Mum knew though. She knew what he was doing and tried to talk to him plenty, only it didn't work. I found out that she knew the entire time when she slipped up, coming home one day and asking how my bruises were when she saw me in agony on the couch.
That was the same day she told me about my brothers, my family in Summer Bay. I could tell it hurt her to do it, to practically hand me an escape route out of my miserable, desolate life, but she knew it had to happen, that I needed to get out of the house before Mark went one step too far and killed me.
Now I'm here sitting on my brothers doorstep, crying with my head in my hands.
Pulling myself up shakily, I tried the door making sure it wasn't left open before walking around the back. The embarrassment of sobbing in the street was kicking in, making me realise how insane I looked. I stumbled around the side of the house, resorting to crying in the backyard away from prying eyes. I pushed the gate open, eyes scanning the garden and landing on the slightly ajar back door.
Great, I thought to myself, whoever's home is going to see me in such a state.
Pushing the door open I quickly walked through the kitchen, straight to my room in an attempt to avoid whoever was home.
"Katrina." Just hearing that low growl of his voice sent chills down my spine, making me pause in my place, lost in a deep, numb, painful trance.
Mark. He knew where I lived, he knew where I was. He was here to take me home and no one was here to stop him this time.
*******
So, this story is finally getting interesting. The drama has arrived.
Thank you to everyone who is keeping up with it. I love your support more than anything!
Sorry it's so late too, I've been super busy recently.
Thankyou lovelies
~ Katie-Lou 😍
xxx