Abused, Mute, and Human

Chapter 17

(edited)

Amanda's P.O.V

"BEEP BEEP BEEP," The steady sound coming from my right wakes me up to a familiar white. This is becoming a reoccurrence. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to do anything because I knew the oh so familiar pain would be present.

Taking a deep breath, I shot up from the bed onto my feet so the pain would last as long but was still super painful. I did it though. I was standing. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. The pain will subside...eventually.

The door had a yellow sticky note with handwriting I had engraved in my mind. I'll never forget the beauty with it as long as I live.

When you wake up, come downstairs. There are things we need to discuss.

~Conlan

I expected this to come sooner or later. I just don't know if I'm ready to do it yet. My feet Carrie my down the stairs to the living room where everyone was seated-waiting for me. Conlan, Aimee, Mable, Abra, Bram, Broddy, and Dakota were all sitting on one side of the room, leaving me to go to the other where my white board laid. I sat down and waited for the questions to begin.

"I just want you to know that this is a safe place and that you can trust us," Abra started. Why did I feel like I was on an episode of Dr. Phil? I nodded my head to show them I understood but still averted my eyes from all of their angry gazes. What did I do? I thought I was the victim here. They probably hate me for being so weak and helpless. I hate me too.

then why does everyone look mad at me

Immediately everyone's eyes softened and turned into worried looks. Looks of pity; I hate pity. I don't need people feeling sorry for me. I do that enough myself.

"We are mad at you," Mable replies. "...we're mad at the man who hurt you,"

There are a few seconds of silence before Abra started with some questions.

"Who was that man?"

my stepfather

"Where are your parents?" I took me a second before showing them, my board. It hurts, even though I'm just writing it down.

dead

More pity.

"Why was he hurting you?" this time, Broddy was the one asking the question. I shrugged, but I knew why. He blames me for her death. He always has.

"Has he done it before?" Dakota asked, seeming off. Angry.

yes

Silence. There was a question hanging in the air and I was just waiting for someone to ask it. No one did.

too many time to count

"Oh Amanda," Mable mumbled sorrowfully. There was so much pain through her voice.

"If you're comfortable, can we see your scars?" why would they want to see something so disgusting?

i guess

I stood up and wondered where to start.

"Oldest to newest," Broddy suggested. Okay. Let's see...my oldest would be...on my right side. I lifted up my shirt and revealed a dark brown faded bruise that was about the size of my fist. My fingers grazed it and there was barely any pain since it was mostly healed.

Then I moved their attention to my stomach and left a side. I again brushed my fingers against the slightly darker bruises. My hands fell and let my shirt readjust to its original placing. My fingers tugged on my hair and revealed the several bruises and cuts on my face that was hidden by my long bangs.