Broken & Alone

Chapter 1: Pain and Trauma

I'm tired of this.
Why won't it leave?
Why won't the pain go away?
I ask myself these questions every single day, but it just won't leave.
Why can't I be happy?
Why can't things just be nice?
The thing is, they used to be, but not anymore... not since... the accident...

     I just sit against the foot of my bed, crying tear after tear into my navy blue hoodie that I still haven't taken off since I've gotten home.

                Why am I such a failure?

                Why does everyone hate me?
          
                What is wrong with me?

     I don't know the answer to any of these questions, so I just keep letting tears roll down my face. I just wish I was dead. Nothing here matters. I don't make a difference. Nobody loves me.

                  I should just die.

     But right as these thoughts cross through my mind, my door opens.

     "What do you want dad?" I mumble.

     "I just wanted to tell you I'm going out," He replies.

     "You need to stop going to the bar. It's bad for you."

     "How would you know what's good for me?"

     I stand up. "Cause I'm not an idiot dad, it's common sense." He glares at me. "You just go out, get drunk, then bang a prostitute. It's not healthy."

     "You wouldn't know what's healthy or not." He pauses and glare sharpens. "You wouldn't know what healthy is if it slapped you in the fucking face." His hand comes across my face, a stinging pain in my once tender cheek from only moments ago. He hits me again, the pain only feeling worse. "You don't know anything. You're just a useless, stupid bitch."

     I fall to the floor in tears screaming. "Just stop! I don't care anymore! Just leave me alone!" He glances at me once more, then turns and walks out of my room, slamming the door behind him. I await the slam of the front door and his leaving car. Once I'm sure he's gone, I stand up once more, still in tears. I begin walking downstairs, wiping my wet face with the blue sleeve on my arm. I wish he would listen to me, just for once. After we lost mom, he's just gone into this loop, get drunk, have sex, repeat. I wish he'd stop and think about what he's doing. But any time I say anything, he attacks me.

     "You shouldn't have to go through that sis," my little brother tells me.

     I turn around. "You didn't see that, right?" He shakes his head. "Good..."

     "Susie, it's not okay what he does to you. We need to call someone."

     "NO!" I take a breath. "I'm not losing another parent. I'm not letting you lose another parent Trent." I turn back around and walk over to the couch. As I flop down, I pat the seat next to me, signaling for him to come sit down. He takes a seat, while clutching his teddy bear.

     "Susie?" Trent asks.

     "Yes Trent?" I respond.

     "What was mom like?" I turn to completely face him.

     "Well, mom was a sweet, kind, loving lady. She was everybody's favorite person. She was loved by everyone. And she loved everyone." I tell Trent stories that I remember our mom telling me when I was younger.

     "Will I ever get to meet mom?"

     I tear up a little, "No, you probably won't. I'm sorry." I wrap my arms around Trent, basically suffocating him. He wraps his arms around me too. At this point, I've begun crying fully again. My tears racing down my face, seeing which one will get there first. He just sits there, hugging me.

     "I love you Susie," He whispers.

     "I love you too Trent." I whisper back. I release him. Now we're just sitting on the couch. It's just silence for a moment. Then we hear a noise at the front door. A loud pounding. It's dad. It turns out, we've been sitting here for hours, not even realizing it. "Go to your room, lock the door, okay?" I tell Trent.

     "Okay." Just then, dad walks in with a terrible stench of liquor, and  some random girl in a see through shirt, showing her bra, and a short skirt.

     "What are you doing -hic- out here? Go to your -hic- room now!" My dad shouts, if you can even call it that between all the hiccups, burps, and slurs. I run as fast as I can to my room, not wanting to start anything. I lock my door behind me and jump onto my bed. I put my hood up, hearing my dads "activities" just downstairs in the living room.

     I feel so bad for Trent. His room is closer than mine is. He shouldn't be exposed to this stuff at his age. I might not have a lot in this life, but at least I have him. That's all that matters. He's all that matters.