Run-Away Little Sister: Hurting

Chapter Four: Gone, Gone, Gone

ANASTASIA'S POV:

Gone. 

No longer present, has departed. 

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It was the night after James, Jackson, and Mason finished whipping me. They left me on the basement floor in tears, withering painfully, while laying in my own pool of blood.

The wounds on my back were bad, and I'm pretty sure I lost consciousness at some point throughout the whipping and after they had left me alone.

Slowly though, I crawled my way up the stairs, catching the time when I made it to the top of the staircase. Twelve-fifty-seven in the morning.

It was grueling and I thought for sure I wasn't going to make it, but I was able to grab some kitchen rags and slow the bleeding. Then I made my way to the bathroom on the lower level of the house.

I was able to get into the bathroom and close the door behind me quietly. Then I was able to peel the dirty, blood stained clothes and rags off my body. I pulled my shaky body into the bathtub, turned the shower head on, and slowly stood up, wincing as I moved too much with the added water beating down onto my already injured back.

Eventually I got the blood off my body and hair, and my body was slightly less tense. I wasn't on the adrenaline high anymore, and I could feel every single whip marking. From right below where my neck began, down to my thighs. There were cuts and whip markings littered across my skin. My entire body felt like jelly. 

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It was slow progress, but when I finally got out of the shower it was two-thirty-seven, and my body didn't want to stay awake for another second. I fought through the pain though, and grabbed some bandages I kept in the bathroom and rolled it carefully around my entire torso, making sure to keep it tight enough to stop it from bleeding, but not tight enough to stop circulation.

Then I slowly made my way up the stairs, being careful not to make any noise.

The bloodied rags I once called clothes were in my hands, and I was heavily limping up the stairs. But it didn't matter because fifteen minutes later, I made it into my room, where I was able to throw the bloodied rags down, sit on my bed, and take a moment to think.

I thought I was going to die.

And even though, I want my brothers to change, I know they won't make that huge leap until something pushes them to do. I don't know if me leaving, would push them to become better people, but it was worth a shot, because I couldn't stay here any longer.

Sighing heavily, I went towards my closet and started grabbing baggy clothes to put on my damaged body.

I grabbed underwear, a large sweatshirt, and large sweatpants that all rested loosely on my skinny body.

Then I sat back on my bed, I wanted to take a nap, but I couldn't afford to do that just yet. There was no time, it was already almost three in the morning and I only had until six to get out of here.

After a moment of sitting, I got back up and made my way towards my closest, grabbing my small luggage. I grabbed my comfy clothes: sweaters, sweatpants, underwear, bras, ext. and placed them all in my suitcase.

Then I grabbed a pair of sandals, slide them on my feet, before grabbing a few pairs of socks and a pair of old running shoes, placing them in my suitcase as well. I grabbed my emergency cash, which was around six thousand dollars (considering most of the money I had taken from my brothers when they weren't looking, and my parents had extra cash laying around as well) and a few photo albums I had from my younger years, and placed those in my suitcase as well. I zipped up the suitcase and looked around, I was making better time.