Living With A Fear

The nightmare continues

"Time to go back to home. You ready?" Remarked the nurse, in a tone that I had never heard before. Desperate to stay just one night more, I hesitated my decision. "Yeah... I suppose..." Pausing through every word that entered my mouth, as I dreaded the moment ahead. I hadn't said much from the day he asked me to leave his devilish mindset at home. I hadn't seem no one or the outside for at least two months, my skin felt as dry as a desert that had no rain for a year. I'd forgotten what the world looked like, whether the trees were tall, the grass was still green, all of it was cut of by the blade of his sharpened razor of a heart. "Right... Lets go. You must be excited to get out of here... You okay?" She sat down next to me, giving a gentle pat on the back. My mind was telling to tell her. Tell her how he treated me like crap. What he'd done. I couldn't. As much as I felt I had to, I had to hide, hide away everything that was in my mind.Pain hit me like a tornado hitting the streets of the wealthy. My mind was made to believe that everything was better. He had changed for me and for the best. Not many people seemed keen about me being out of hospital. They wrote blooded messages that left me insecure about everything. I felt like I was missing something. Someone. Myself.I entered my house with a struggle. No one willing to help and certainly willing to smile. All I saw was blank faces everywhere. No one care that I was alright. No one cared that I was alive. It was painful to see every one laugh with one another about me. I felt alone. Afraid to be back. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be different. I wanted to be dead.At around 6:49 in the evening, I had manage to get no rest. My feet were hurting, I felt like a dead corpse being used for a punching bag. Punched and kicked left, right and centre. I felt ultimately like I was being killed to the bone with work. Nothing had changed, it was the complete opposite of what I expected. No sit down with a cup of tea and a biscuit, not a single visit or phone call from anyone that I knew. Not a single card or a message from either an outside relative or a family friend.
As I lied on the hard wooden slab that was my bed, I thought of how different life would be if I wasn't around. Tears fulfilled my broken mind once more, as I thought of the moments that made me feel unstoppable. I closed my fragile, weak eyes tight, tugged the small, rugged blanket over my pale skin and fell in to a deep sleep.
Smash! I woke up to the muffled sound of my door being crashed into the wooden door. "Oi get your backside out off bed!"
The stern, angered, satan stared into my crushed soul as it melted to the core of my stomach. I didn't want to leave my room, as much as I felt alone and cornered in the dark unlighted room, I knew it was the only place where I could be and let every piece of emotion and thought out of myself. I hated this. I hated him. I hated this nightmare. Suddenly, the fright of his tough grip on my head brought me back to his glare.
"I SAID MOVE BITCH!"
His strong, tight fist, dragged me down the stairs and in to a pile of dirt. Tears of pain ran down my face into an old rugged piece of rag, and fulfilled the stream that was beneath me.
"Just because you've just got out of hospital doesn't mean that you can spend all day dreaming! I say what goes on in this house and that's final! You do not get a input! You're not worth any goodness. You're pathetic. A piece of shit!" He clenched his fist and hammered it into my already painful back. I crumbled into my death, though I was still screaming in agony. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to live. He stared over me like a tone of bricks waiting to fall over. My heartbeat stopping, my skin pale, my sight fading, I knew he won... This time... This time only.