The Girl with Cat's Eyes

C H A P T E R 8

Your mood is stormy

But your eyes are alight

You stand at the end of a broken way

Hearts split in half

Children cry out in pain

And you are left alone

Sobbing in the rain

C H A P T E R      8

***

'Lana? Lana?' It was him. He was back. Drunk, and confused. As always.

'Daddy, I'm not Lana, I'm not mummy... you're confused, come on, lets’ get you to bed...' I knew this was a dangerous path to take our conversation, but he needed to get to bed. He thought I was Her. Lana. My mother. Who I had killed. It happened often. I would always tell him the same thing and he would always fly into a rage.

He told me all the time when he was reasonably sober that I looked almost exactly like her, except that my skin was slightly lighter in colour, and I had my father's eyes. He hated that I looked so similar to her. Every time he saw me I would see something flicker in his eyes, anger, hate. But also desperation, for me to turn into my mother, for her to be alive. But that could never happen. And so he beat me instead.

'Shut up, Lana. I don't want to go to bed!'

'Daddy, I'm... I'm not Lana. I'm your daughter.'

I saw recognition flash across his face. I flinched back curling up and covering my face with my hands as his torrent of punches and kicks rained down on me.

'I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry! Please!'

'Shut up, bitch! You lied to me! How dare you pretend to be your mother! You are nothing like her. You are scum, bitch. Lana was one thousand times better than you'll ever be! Got it, you slut?' He slurred angrily as he aimed a good punch to my stomach which knocked the wind out of me.

I fell on the floor, the new cut on my hand bleeding badly, blood seeped into the floor boards. It was new. Recent. I cut my self regularly. It helped me forget the beatings, relaxed me for a time at least. I knew it was bad, that I shouldn't do it. I always felt so dirty the next day, so stupid. But for an hour, it kept me calm.

So I lay there, as my drunk father stumbled blindly from the room, cursing and swearing on his way out. I lay there, bleeding and broken.

**

'She's awake, Jess, look. She's fine. Just tired.'I opened my eyes, and looked around. I was in my room, my old familiar room, that I felt like I hadn't seen in days. I looked over by the side of my bed, to see Sarah sitting on a chair next to me. I wondered where Jesse was. I looked around, following his voice to see him standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame. He looked at me, smiled a little. His cheeks had taken on a rosy tint of pink. I looked down at my hands. What could I say to him? I had no idea. I decided I'd just pretend that none of it had ever happened. He walked over to me, checking me over to see if I was alright and I felt my cheeks burn with a blush.

Satisfied he stood and left the room, muttering embarrassedly under his breath.

'He really does love you, you know.' It was Sarah. I looked at her in shock. How did she know? She wasn't supposed to know! Did Jesse tell her? I swear if he did I would kill him!

'Don't worry, hun, he didn't tell me. I could just see it in his eyes, the way he looks at you. He's been distraught this past week and a half, couldn't stand not knowing why you collapsed, or where you were...'

I looked around for my white board.

Sarah realized and handed it to me.

Wait, how long was I out? When did I collapse the first time?

'Um... Well, as I said, a week and a half...'

What! How!

'Well, I mean... When you collapsed the first time round, you were out for a week. Then you up and left... Don't think I don't know why, by the way, young lady! Any way, you left about nine in the morning, and Jesse found you again in the early hours. He was a wreck you know... Any ways, you've been sleeping off your tiredness these last few days... You woke a few times but I don't think you were actually awake, you won't remember it, I bet.'

She was right I didn't. Since being found the only thing I remembered before now was the memory of my father thinking I was my mother. I looked at the scars on my arm. It was me. I had done them. I was dangerous. My father was right. I... I must have been desperate... I couldn't quite... Comprehend... I had done them... Me... I was self-harming...

But as I looked back to the memory, and remembered doing them. The addictive rush of the blood as it poured out of the wound...

I shook my self... No. I couldn't remember. I could never do this again. Never cut myself... No matter what pain I was facing, no matter about the temptation. I would stay away from all knives, as many sharp things as possible. It couldn't happen again. It had no reason to.

It was then I realized I had been silent for quite a while. I looked up to see Sarah watching me expectantly.

Well, wow. I didn't realize. I had no idea...

And I really didn't.