Karma ||H.S||

Chapter 22

I've locked myself in the all too familiar tiny bathroom, sitting in the shower with my knees up to my chest, watching the blood flow freely down the drain from the slit I just cut into my arm. It hurts. Everything hurts. It doesn't matter how drunk I am right now, I still feel the pain from what he just did to me. In my intoxicated state, I count through sobs, the amount of cuts I have. Thirty-three. Thirty-three times I have unwillingly allowed Ryan to violate me, to make me want more than anything just to die so I won't have to live through this even one more time, because I just don't understand how I could. But it's what I deserve.

I know that by the number of red lines and still open wounds that run up and down and across my arms, that I've been "Ryan's Girl" for three months now, and when you're Ryan's Girl, there's no getting out. You do what he says, when he says it and you pretend that you like it. And if you tell a single soul, he'll kill you and everyone you love. Those are the rules. The dreaded rules that I must live by. And I do it because it's what I deserve.

I can barely stand on my wobbly legs as I attempt to get out of the shower. I've sat under the rushing water long enough to almost sober me up as the water ran cold, making me feel every ounce of pain. Maybe I didn't drink as much as I should have? Maybe he threw me against the wall harder than usual? Maybe he gripped onto me rougher? Maybe his movements were much more forceful than any other time? I don't know. All I know is that it hurts to move. That every part of me is screaming out in pain that I wish more than anything I didn't have to feel. But it's what I deserve.

As much as I wish to end my life, I know that I can't. Dad still needs me, and the little time that I do get to spend with him, is worth living this mess. He thinks I'm going through a rebellious stage and that's why I don't return home for days at a time, and when I do, I'm not the same little girl he raised. He thinks it's because of Mom's death and I'm fine with using that as an excuse. I'll let him think what he wants, as long as he doesn't find out what's really going on. Lying to him will only keep him safe. It will save his life.

I look at my naked body in the full length mirror that hangs on the back of the bathroom door. I don't even recognize myself anymore. The usual black bags under my bloodshot eyes are now lined with a deep redness from crying. My face, paler than ever. I look like death. I feel like death. But I am still holding onto the last few threads.

I wince, gently running my shaky fingers over the black and blue bruises spread across my bony hips. New ones covering the old yellow ones. Tears stream down my face at the sight of a new bruise on my shoulder, as big as the ones I had in the beginning. What did I do to deserve this life? To deserve what I've been given? I can't for the life of me, remember why I keep telling myself that this was my fate. All I know is that I can't go back and change whatever it is that I did, to make my life turn out a different way, but I want to. I want to take back everything bad I've ever done so that karma wouldn't do me in like it has.

As I'm making a mental promise to myself to never do another bad thing in my life, I slowly pull a t-shirt over my head, noticing a hand print on my lower back. Ryan's hand print. How can someone--anyone--think it's okay to do this to someone else? I grip onto the small counter with one hand as I hold myself up to put my underwear on, cringing in pain as I do so.

A banging on the door makes me freeze. "I know you're in there Paisley!" Hunter. It's only Hunter on the other side of the door. I slowly open it, and just as I thought, Hunter is standing there. His long frame looks taller, as he leans one arm above his head holding onto the door frame. His messy dark blonde hair falls into his face as he looks down at me with his blue bloodshot eyes. "Fuck, you were in there forever. Get out!" I know that he's on something. Otherwise he doesn't talk to me this way.