Second Chance

Second Chance [One]

Second Chance

Copyright © 2011 Kenia Rivera

I wrote this story quite a while back and wanted to posted it up to see what people thought of it. Hope you enjoy! :)

So here is the edited version, it took me a while to get it done XD 

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Sweat was running down my brow as I concentrated. My arms and knees were aching, my back felt stiff from being bent over for so long. I scrubbed harder, not willing to give up so easily to the scum that had decided to make it's home on the bath tub. I paused to catch my breath, wiping the sweat that was beginning to build up on my forehead. While I leaned back to stretch my muscles, I heard footsteps out in the hall. Hoping that whoever it was would just walk by and ignore me, I set back to work.

“Have you cleaned my room, yet?” Henry, my older brother, asked harshly as he walked into the bathroom.

“Yeah, it's done. I just have to finish doing your laundry,” I answered, paying more attention to the tub than him.

“What?! I told you to do that ages ago!” He spat angrily. I felt him take a step closer towards me, my body automatically became stiff.

“Just finish up with my clothes, you stupid bitch,” he snarled, then stomped out of the room.

I sighed, relieved he didn’t lay a hand on me. I leaned back again, closing my eyes and trying to loosen my muscles up. As I let my mind wander, I thought of my brother and the person he had come to be. When we were young, he was easy to talk to; we would always get along. He would get irritated easily, but he was never a violent kid. I noticed he began to change when our younger brother, Lanny, passed away. He stopped talking to people; when he did, it was either one word answers or insults, but he wasn’t violent. When my mother passed away two  years ago, he turned into this whole other person that I didn’t know existed within him. I thought he was fooling around when he began to order me around as our step-father, playing tricks on me as he use to when we were kids. But when what he said wasn’t done, he began to take matters into his own hands.

Reaching for the sponge, I got a tight hold on it and began scrubbing harder; enjoying the pain that was shooting up my arm. Personally, I preferred feeling the physical pain, than emotional. I was tired of crying and feeling the wretched pain in my chest, it led me nowhere but to my own personal misery. I scrubbed harder as the tightness in my chest began. I felt it get tighter and tighter as I kept scrubbing. Throwing the sponge into the tub, I stood up and closed my eyes as I leaned over the sink trying to breath in and out evenly.

As the image of my mother crossed before my eyes, my heart gave one last squeeze that sent me over the edge. The lump in my throat made its appearance then. I wasn’t over my mother’s death, no matter how many time tried to either tell myself or act as if I am, I wasn’t. She meant the world to my brothers and I. I always thought of her as an angel, with her love and patience. She would always be there for us and I can’t remember a time when she ignore us or even lay a hand on us. She would just watch us as we threw out temper tantrums and wear ourselves out, then take action. She would hold us close to her chest and kept us there until we were completely calm.

Why did you have to leave us, mom! I screamed in my head as I shut my eyes tightly, trying hard not to let the tears fall uncontrollably. I wasn’t in the mood for either of my brothers or Michael to find me crying. Michael, I thought angrily as I felt my chest being released and replaced with burning anger as I thought of that man.

I only believe that my mom made one grave mistake, a mistake that ruined us all. She met a man, knew and dated for about a month, then, out of nowhere, married him. I thought maybe it could have been love of first sight. I was a sucker for romance when I was a child, but  once this man walked into our lives that bubble was burst for me.