His Mission

Downward spiral.

I haven't slept in days. My eyes are sunken in with dark shadows surrounding them from lack of sleep. I sit on the edge of my bed before running a hand through my wild hair. My nights consist of tossing and turning until I eventually give up trying. My brain is filled with a heavy fog, and I'm unable to keep my eyes open without them stinging with discomfort. The sun begins to peek through my curtains, and it causes a warm ray of light to hit my face. I lean back against the wall to soak in the silence of the morning. I love the tender moment when the sun is making an appearance but everyone else is sleeping. It feels special and peaceful.

My thoughts quickly turn to my encounter with Jake yesterday. My stomach bubbles with nerves, and I wish I could go back to react differently. I've kept Trevor's abuse a secret for years, and one silly little mistake is threatening to expose it. Is Jake suspicious of me? I know he's been watching me, and I hope my encounter with him doesn't peak his interest in me.

Just as I initially planned, I'll stay away from him.

I drag myself onto my feet before heading into my en-suite bathroom. I grimace as soon as I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My skin is pale, and the bruise under my eye is turning darker with every passing day. I rummage through my makeup bag for several pots of concealer to hide the aftermath of Trevor's temper.

It's going to take a miracle for me to look presentable today.

*

The scent of alcohol is overbearing. As soon as I push open the kitchen door, it hits me in the face and I resist the urge to gag. Trevor is sitting at the dining table with a can of beer in his hand. I immediately freeze before turning around to walk away from him. Breakfast isn't high on my list of priorities.

"Where do you think you're going?" Trevor slurs his words due to his drunken state. I can hear the anger increasing with every word he directs toward me. I close my eyes for a brief second before slowly turning around to face him.

"I'm going to school. I don't want to be late." I say quietly. His dark eyes linger on my face for enough seconds to make me feel uncomfortable. My hands begin to tremble so I quickly shove them inside the pockets of my jeans. He glances down at the invisible watch on his wrist before mumbling words that I don't understand. He sways left and right, and my gaze flickers over to the empty pile of beer cans sitting beside him. How much has he had to drink? He's always enjoyed drinking with his meals, but lately the alcohol consumption seems to be getting worse. If I cared about him at all, I'd say he needed help.

"I'm leaving," I whisper, hoping he'll spare me the argument. It's only been a few days since my last beating, so I'm hoping he isn't planning on hurting me. He usually gives me enough time to recover before laying into me again. Trevor grunts with protest before stumbling toward me. I hold my breath with fear before pressing myself up against the door. Every step he takes toward me causes my anxiety to increase. It bubbles away inside my chest, but I try to mask it from my face.

"Did you buy anything for the wedding?" Trevor says with irritation. His eyes narrow in my direction, and I slowly shake my head in protest. "No, I've been busy with school, but I'll get around to it."

"What did your Mom tell you? Huh? You're supposed to find an outfit for the wedding!" Trevor yells at me. He lifts his hand up before slapping me across the face. The force of his hit mixed with the exhaustion I'm experiencing causes me to see stars in my vision. I clutch at my cheek before stumbling out into the hallway. He takes another step toward me before striking a blow to my side. My legs crumble under my weight, and I slide back against the wall. I want to stand up and run, but I feel immobilised with weakness.

The worst feeling is knowing my body is failing me when I need it the most.

"You're fucking useless!" Trevor roars at me. He's inches away from me when I decide not to let him hurt me this time. I pull my arm back before punching him in the crotch. Trevor's groans of pain fill the house, and he curls over with agony. His hands wrap around his manhood, and his face begins to turn beetroot red with anger and pain. I scramble away from him while feeling a wave of victory flood through me. My lips tug upward into a smirk when I hear his whimpered cries.