I woke up in my bed, the next morning, lifting my head to look at my bedside clock I was pleasantly surprised that I had slept through a whole night, not being woken up by nightmares. Maybe I should get knocked out more often I thought to myself. As I pondered this I sat up, and put my hand down on my bed, as I applied pressure, pain from my knuckles shot up my arm, I snatched my hand away as though it had just bitten me, looking at my knuckles, I saw that they were split, and had been bleeding recently, I sighed and went to the bathroom, to survey the damage from last night's fighting. It was pretty bad looking at my body, it was like I hadn't fought back, there were bruises everywhere, I looked like one purple mass from where one particularly brutal fighter had caught me off guard a few times, but I made him pay, winning the fight, and making sure I heard at least one bone crack before I let up on hitting him. From the other fights, there were cuts and scratches all over me. I reached down into my cupboard and got out the alcohol to clean them all up, it stings like a bitch but who knows what has been on those people's hands. Peeling out of my clothes I got into the shower and let the grime wash off me. When I got out I inspected all the cuts and before cleaning them again and getting ready to leave for school.
School was quiet that day, Aron didn't come in, the rest of the jocks didn't bother me either, I hoped that he had not told everyone what I was doing last night, but I realised he hadn't, because the Gemma and her lapdogs still sneered at me and made rumours up, so apparently news of my extracurricular activities hadn't spread far. I got asked from multiple teachers to tutor Aron, but regardless of the incentive I refused every time, noting their desperation for me to help, but there was nothing in this world could make me suffer any more than I already did under his hand, so declined... politely.
When I got home that night, it was already dark; I had passed by the gym, telling them that I wasn't in the mood for training. In actual fact, I didn't want them to see me injured again, my head was killing me from where I cracked it on the ground yesterday, and the bruises weren't going to have faded in a day, so I skipped gym, and went running instead. I was focusing on the burn in my legs when I ran up to my house, so I did not notice my angry father sat in the kitchen waiting for me to return home.
As I hastily made my way past the kitchen, I was still focusing on calming my breath, and getting out of the way of my father, that I didn't see him swing for me, winding me and knocking me on my ass, as I turned over to push myself he kicked me in the stomach winding me some more I lay on the floor struggling for breath, when he screamed "get up you good for nothing bitch" grabbing onto the kitchen counter I started to pull myself up I felt the familiar tug of my hair, when my dad pulled me backwards then let go causing me to slam my head into the counter top making my head explode in pain. He pushed me into a chair, and then he came around me to look directly into my eyes. "You fucking embarrassed me yesterday," averting my gaze from his angry glare, I looked at my hands that were in my lap, but I couldn't make myself speak, the fear that was bubbling up in my throat made it almost impossible to breathe. "This" he roughly pulled my ponytail again snapping my head back "needs to go," he kept hold of my ponytail as he spoke "and if you ever get knocked out again, I'll do more than break your ribs" he pulled harder so that I could look up into his eyes and see the seriousness of his statement "I'll break your whole fucking body, do you hear me" he pulled harder making tears spring to my eyes,
"yes sir" I sniffled as I tried to hold the tears back.
Never releasing the pressure on my hair, he reached over me, I heard the sound of metal scraping against more metal, and before I knew it the pressure had been released, and I had been pushed forwards off of the chair I was on, the connection with the floor only made the pain in my head worse, and as I blinked my eyes open a bundle of orange had been thrown in front of me. I gasped as I realised that my father had just cut off my ponytail, looking up, I saw my father's retreating figure.
That was the night I broke, curled up on the kitchen floor holding my hair to me, I cried out all of the traumas of the past four years, all the angst and anger that had built up, the pain of my mother leaving me, and my father hating me, I cried over the loss of love from both parents, and the fact that I had had to grow up knowing that I was on my own.
Hours later, after the dry sobs had stopped racking my body, I stood up, taking my hair with me, and made my way up to the bathroom I looked around, taking a deep breath stepping into the shower, I felt nothing, I was completely numb. I mechanically washed my body and my hair before stepping out of the shower. Drying myself before looking in the mirror. Glancing over my appearance, my once fair skin, now yellow and purple from the healing bruises, raw knuckles scabbing over from yesterday's fights, I had a muscular body that looked like that of a fighter, thankfully I didn't have many scars, yet. I looked directly into my eyes, and took a deep breath steeling myself to look at the aftermath of what my father had done that day but not before I noticed a fresh bruise forming on my cheek. Glancing down I picked up the scissors, I twirled them around in my fingers before taking another deep breath and looking at my hair. Considering it for a moment I swapped the scissors for the comb and started putting a parting into it. Combing down the sides and bruising the long front forwards, and cutting, making sure the front was even, and the back got shorter. I watched myself in the mirror making sure that they were trimmed perfectly before getting out a hair tie and bundling the short hair on top of my head. I bent down and rummaged in the cupboard, finding what I wanted, I stood up satisfied. After looking at them for a while I figured out how to set the hair clippers to a fairly short length, and took them to the sides of my head making sure to guide them carefully around my head. When I was finished, making sure all the edges were sharp I looked up at myself, taking a deep breath, and began to clean up the hair that I had shed. Once finished I released the long part from the hair tie, and sighed as a single tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it away, commanding myself not to cry over something you can't change dragging a hand through my hair, I glanced out of the window to see the sun beginning to rise. I left the bathroom to check the time, I discovered that I had hours before I needed to get up, so I slipped on a sleep shirt, and slid into bed so that I could lie in comfort until I had to throw myself back into what I call life.
YOU ARE READING
Memoirs Of a survivor
Action"You're an animal, you're a dog, you will always be a dog, and there's nothing you can do to change that" "You will do as you're told" "Come here and clean this up" All comments that had been shouted at Scarlett Fletcher. Her school life is bad, a...
