Short Stories

Vikk

Vikk

(Abused)

I poke the side of stomach and wince at the pain. I look at myself in the mirror and see the bruise darken as I drop my shirt back down.

I grab my boots and pull them into my feet. I look at myself in the mirror again and push my hair to the side.

Don't listen to them, they barely know you. I whisper to myself. I had a point, they never bothered to know me. They aren't even sober enough to think of me. They are always drunk and maybe that's for the best.

I look away from the mirror and I slowly open the bathroom door. It made a creaking sound and I feel my body tense up. They didn't hear that. I thought to myself. I know they didn't.

I tip toe out into the hall. I try to be as silent as I was earlier. I step on the tiles that didn't make a noise. Practice, it all took practice to figure out the ones that weren't squeaky.

My foot lost it's balance and I moved it towards another area. A soft creaking sound echoed through the house and I stopped dead in my tracks.

I heard one of my parents shuffle on their bed and it killed me thinking about what would happen if they woke up.

Someone gets out of bed and rushes to the scene. It was my father. Of course, the harshest one. "You know it's hard for your mother and I to fall asleep and it is rude to be awoken, you idiot." He began his morning rant. It would be followed by his hand hitting me. A few years left and I'm out of here, I tell myself.

"I'm sorry. Please don't." I plead. I know it's too late. It was a waste of oxygen, like I was, and my parents were there to remind me every day.

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