Snap! You heard the sickening snap of your poor mother's neck and the noise of human skin meeting the hardwood floor. Trembling with fear and clinging to your older brother, fearful tears fell from your eyes as your abusive father stepped towards you. Your brunette brother hid you in his body, protecting you from the harmful fists of the man you thought you loved.
"Move, boy." The husky growl from the man said. When he shook his head, the older alcholic raised a hand and struck his cheek, hard. Slap!
A terrified shriek left your lips, fearing your brother would end up like your poor mother.
"Shut up!" He yelled at you when you kept right on screaming. He picked you up by your hair, making you yell louder and the tears fall faster.
"L-Leave her alone!" The faint, quivering voice of your brother tried.
But instead of listening to his only son, he threw you at him, ripping a good handful of hair from your head.
You collided with his body with a soft grunt as he caught you in his arms. You wept as you hugged him tightly, thinking it was finally over. That he'd leave you alone. But instead, he stepped towards you and tore you from your brother's arms again.
"B-Bruce!" You cried as he was dragged to his bedroom.
Afraid he would kill him, you stood up to follow him, but that collision with your brother had damaged your ankle. With a yelp of pain, you fell back down and cried more. Instead of entering the room with Bruce, however, your father simply locked him in before walking, once again, towards you in slow, agonizing steps. Thud. Thud. Thud. His boots sounded against the floor.
When he picked you up by your arm, you winced from the strong grip on your forearm. He dragged you out to the car, even though he shouldn't be driving when drunk.
"D-Daddy! Please, stop!" You cried, struggling to be free.
"Shut up." He growled again before stuffing you in the back seat.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
You wake up with a start, panting and sweating. Your (h/c) hair sticks to your face and neck, plastered with the sticky sweat. Your pillow is drenched with the stinky body liquid.
Again. Really? Your mind asks, frustrated. Frustrated with the nightmares and the memories.
You were seven years old when that happened. Every little bit. But you didn't dare think of what happened next. Of what happened to Bruce after your father dropped you off cruelly at the orphanage. A bruised, trembling, crying, child, already homesick. Why couldn't he bring Bruce with you? Why did he have to separate you from the only thing you loved most in this world?
You shake your head and slip your legs over the edge of your bed. The bright, red numbers of your alarm clock read 6:01, taunting you as if saying "look at how early you have to wake up because of your stupid job". Not today. You're not going to work today; today was a very special day. Your wedding day.
Stretching first, you stand up and make your bed out of habit. Then you grab some clothes and head for the towel. You turn the water on, pretty hot, and strip yourself of your pajamas. You step into the hot spray, letting the water punish your skin. You smile to yourself. I'm not gonna let anything ruin today. Nothing at all. You say mentally as you wash your hair with green apple scented shampoo.
As you step out into the cool air of the bathroom, you look at yourself in the mirror. You touch the spot on your head where it hurt so many times in your dream - er, nightmares. You sigh a bit and dress in a pair of dark wash, flared jeans and a nice, burgundy shirt. You slip on some black, open-toed flats and head to the garage, grabbing your purse, sunglasses, and car keys on the way.
