Beautifully Broken

{chapter two}

You killed her.

It's your fault.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

I need the voices to stop. I need them to go away. I cover my ears but that doesn't do any good because there already in my head. Creeping around what I don't want them too, and yelling it at me.

I untangle myself from my sheets and stand up. A sharp pain to my side makes me flinch. I lift up my shirt and look at my bandage. A little red spot it seeping though.

"Shit," I mutter to myself. I let my shirt fall back down and look at the time. 4:29am. I have time before my dad wakes up.

Keeping the light off, I fumble around looking for a pare of pants and slip them on. I make my way to my door, and nearly trip over something. I reach down and pick up the whisky bottle from last night. It's completely empty. How the fuck am I not dead right now? I remind myself to grab Advil after I'm done.

I unlock and open my door quietly and slowly. Across the hall my dads door is still firmly shut. I let myself breathe. I go into the hall, and then to the bathroom. Laying on the floor is my bag, which I realise I left in here last night, and the gauze and tape that I didn't have the energy to put away. I grab those and and take off the old bandage and put on a clean one.

I grab my bag and take out my phone to check for any messages. It does not surprise me that there is none. I put it back in my bag and set it outside my door for me to grab when I come back upstairs.

When I go downstairs I make sure to step on the parts of wood that doesn't squeak. Once I make it down, I take a right to the kitchen. I go through the medicine cabinet till I find what I'm looking for. I pop two pills into my mouth, and grab a cup of water to wash them down.

I look at the clock on the stove, 4:54. My dad's supposed to get up at 5. I take the water with me upstairs, and as quickly as I can I get back into my room. Making sure to grab my bag before shutting and locking the door. I set the water on my nightstand.

A few minutes later I hear his open. I grab the book I got at the library yesterday, open my window, and carefully climb out. My roofs flat enough that you could stand without sliding or feeling unbalanced. I sleep here most nights. I have a few blankets and pillows laid out like a bed. I like to sleep under the stars, and hear the faint sound of the ocean. It makes my mind be quiet.

I sit down on the blankets and pull my knees up to my chest and lay my chin on them. In the distance you can see the ocean. The sun's barely coming up, so the sky's still a little dark. Stars sprinkle the sky like confetti. Even though I don't know shit about them, I still love them. Their just pretty to look at. I feel like some nights their the only friends I have, they're my secret keepers.

I sit there like that, looking at the stars until they soon get captured by the sun, or reading my book, until I hear the sound of a car engine start and drive off. My dad is off to work.

I grab my book, and climb back through the window. I set the book on my dresser and make my way back downstairs. I go into the kitchen and start getting out the ingredients to make muffins. While taking down the mixing bowels something set aside on the counter catches my eye. I set the bowl down, and go over to see what it is.

Laid out is a couple twenties and a note that says,

Here's money, school starts next week, get anything you need. Be home when I get off work.