Sticks And Stones

Darken

"Stop! Please, you're hurting me!"

My mother shoved me against the kitchen counter, slamming her fist into my already bruised stomach. Grabbing my hair, she forced my head back, baring my neck. Her sharp nails dug into the skin of my throat and I screamed as the warm, wet blood came trickling down to my chest.

"Shut up!" she screamed in my ear and slapped me across the face. "You're nothing but trash I can't seem to get rid of!"

She grabbed my head and slammed it against the kitchen fridge. The entire room started blurring out and turning red... and then a dark shade of purple. . . and then . . . nothing. . .

-*-

I awoke to my mother kneeling against the bed, my palm in her hand, crying and attending to my wounds. "I'm sorry, Haylie. I'm so, so sorry. Please, please forgive me," she had been muttering continuously.

I stared up at the ceiling fan above me, watching it going around and around, and thinking about how I could just stare at it for hours. I could slowly slip away from myself into nothing. -become nothing. I understand this makes no sense but I wished with all my entirety that it did.

Avoiding eye contact, I said, as if on routine, "It's fine mom. I'm fine. I forgive you."

I felt her squeeze my fingers- a gesture probably meant as motherly comfort- but all I felt were her cold, callous fingertips that my body cowered away from instinctively.

"And you're not going to tell anyone?" She pleaded. So much for motherly.

I sighed.

"I never do," I promised, and tried smiling at her- which felt more like a grimace.

Her eyes lit up and I winced in pain when she kissed me. "It'll never happen again, I promise."

Yeah. Sure.

When she finally left the room, I was free to get ready in peace. So after taking a long and painful shower, I straightened my dark red hair and got dressed.

Looking in the mirror, I inspected my attire: My ripped denim shorts over some black tights that were a little too itchy, the black leather jacket that clung to my skin like a leather seat on a hot day, and a pair of combat boots that were two sizes too big. These things and the pounds of concealer I'd applyed to hide the bruises. And I noticed how much I'd changed in just six short months, let alone the past few years.  I had become an entirely different person- someone Brenton would despise... someone I would have too. But, in a way, I liked that. Becoming a different person helped me cope with reality. 

It's almost like I'm in one of those dreams where I'm Me but in a different body. The only difference is, in this case, it's more like a nightmare.

-And there's no waking up.

-*-

Once I got to class, I picked a random seat in the back of they room. But as soon as I sat down, Aria Burns walked in and glared daggers at me. She strutted towards me and stopped at where I was sitting.

"Get out of my seat," she demanded, setting her books on the desk.

My eyebrows rose as if they were daring her to speak one more time. She shifted her weight a bit but ultimately stood her ground. I stood up and looked her straight in the eyes. "Make me," I challenged and slammed her stuff onto the floor.

"Oh my god, you bi-" she started just when Mr. Walker, the science teacher, walked in and we both quickly sat down.

"Haylie, Aria, detention for the both of you," he stated without looking our way and begun teaching.