Running

Chapter 3: The Knife

Iris's POV:

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"Iris, get down here!"

I flinch and open my door. My aunt is calling me from downstairs. I have no idea what's the matter.

"Coming, Aunt Gillian!" I call.

She is in the kitchen chopping vegetables for the stew. "I got a call today, Iris."

I inwardly groan. "Aunt Gillian----"

"Don't you Aunt Gillian me," she exclaims, setting the knife down to look me in the eye. "The school said you rushed out of first period."

"I'm sorry."

"You can't sorry your way out of this one," she informs me, an angry glint in her eye.

"Uncle Rodney---" I get ready to call his name, for I know there is a beating ahead of me.

"If you call my husband's name, I will beat the crap out of you."

"What else is new?" the words slip out before I can stop myself.

"You little---"

She grabs the knife of the counter and comes towards me. I walk backwards, terrified.

"Don't, Aunt Gillian. I'm sorry!"

I trip over my heels and land on the cold, hard tile of the kitchen. She takes the opportunity and leaps onto me.

She is straddling me, and my breaths come in short pants.

"Help---," my cries are muffled by her hand.

"This is what you get for being a little miss know-it-all."

She drags the knife over my tear-streaked cheeks, and a fiery trail of pain follows wherever she cuts me.

After she has created a semi-deep cut from my chin to my temple, her hands are slick with my warm blood.

I scream and scream into her hand and she punches me a few times in the face. By the time she has let all of her anger out, my head is killing me.

"Next time, think before you speak," she warns me and leaves me on the ground.

"Mom," Terry, her daughter, trudges into the kitchen. "What are we having for---"

Then she sees me, bloody and nearly unconscious, on the floor. I am far from where Aunt Gillian stands.

"Mom," she says, her voice void of emotion.

"Oh, Iris!" Aunt Gillian drops the knife on the counter and pretends that she just saw me. "Oh, my gosh! Terry!"

Terry visibly relaxes and walks slowly over to me. "Iris, get up."

I am unable to say anything. The pain is unbearable.

"Come on," she sighs, helping me up. "I'll clean you up. What happened, anyway?"

"It looks like she fell on the nail right there," her mother speaks up, gesturing towards a stray nail hanging low off of the ground.

Terry takes note of the bruises on my face and shrugs. "Yeah, whatever."

She walks me over to the bathroom, and we pass Aunt Gillian. Fury is radiating off of her.

I cower.

As Terry shuts the bathroom, she says, "What did you do this time?"

I choke on my words. "Your mom is insane----"

"Shut up," she snaps. "My mother is perfect. You are the problem."

She wipes my cut with some alcohol and I wince. "What are you talking about?"

"My mom wouldn't slap you around if you weren't so disrespectful. You don't know how much she does for you."

"But-----"

"Just drop it," she says angrily.

I fall silent and she finishes cleaning my wound. It is deeper than I thought it was, but I don't need stitches.

"It probably won't scar," she claims.

"Gee, thanks," I say sarcastically.

"Whatever," she stalks out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with a broken reflection.

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