TO THE STARS

CHAPTER 1

July 7th

     It has been seven days since it happened. Seven days since I've uttered a word. Seven days of feeling empty, destroyed and disgusted with my own self. Seven days of loathing my very existence and seven sleepless nights of hell.
    
     On the night of the unfortunate incident, the police were called. Everything that happened upon their arrival was all a blur. I could barely put a name to anything.
    
     Bryan was taken into their custody, a few evidences were collected, photos of both me and the scene were taken and statements were recorded, all except mine.
     
     I was so shaken up, I could barely say a word. Anytime I tried, I was reminded of Bryan's hurtful words. Of his hard eyes staring down at me. It was so bad it made talking feel like being punched on my stomach over and over again.

     It certainly didn't help that the police were all giving me pathetic pity looks, neither did it help that being in the room I once considered as a sanctuary was now haunting and suffocating.
    
     The police gathered their stuffs to leave—when they saw no progress was made on my part—with a promise to come back the following day. Before leaving, the detective in charge of the case gave strict instructions to visit a specialist of whom she had jotted down their contact on a piece of paper for necessary examinations.

     My mother had requested—more like begged—that she be the one to take me for the examination instead of the cops.

     "The examinations ought to be conducted within the first twenty four hours," the detective emphasised, still appearing a bit reluctant.
    
     The moment the room was cleared, I hurried to my feet and raced down the hall, suddenly feeling nauseous. I couldn't stay in my room anymore. I saw him everywhere I looked; our time together both good and bad, blending to form one hell of a mess.
     
     As I ran, I could hear my family chasing after me and calling out my name.

     Andrea, where are you going to? Andrea, talk to me honey. Andrea, please come back.

     It was all making my head ache. I wanted to cry so badly, to let it out, to scream. Something. Anything. It was just too much. The more I took a breath, the more my head seemed heavier.
     
     I finally stopped by the guest room, pushed the door open and falling to the ground. I laid in a foetus position with my arms wrapped tightly around my torso. My nails bit at my side, forcing my body to register pain that wasn't weighing down on my chest. They pushed through the door shortly after, entering the room cautiously. They tried asking me questions, softly quizzing me about if I was okay and if I wanted anything.
     
     Their voices echoed in my head, like we were all in a tunnel. I wanted so badly to scream at them to stop their bickering. Everything just hurt really badly; both inside and out. When they noticed I wasn't ready to say anything, my mother instructed my father and brother to leave, wanting to cuddle up with her little girl, or so she said it. They were reluctant at first, but a stern look from my her got them moving.
    
     She brushed my hair down with her hand. "Why don't we move to the bed sweetie?"
   
     The bed? Could I ever look at one the same way again?
     
     I stole a glance. My eyes met dark oak, a contrast to my white wooden frame. I could barely see past my tears filled eyes. I grabbed at my chest, shaking my head and mumbling to myself.
    
     It's not my bed or my room. He can't get me here, I whispered to myself over and over again. 
    
     "It's that okay sweetie?" My mother asked again, flattening down my hair.
    
     I could hardly will my head to a nod. I think she got the message though. With her strong grip on my arm, she gently got me to move off the floor and onto the comfort of the soft bed. She got right in after me, pulling me to her side. We laid quietly together with her running her fingers through my hair and telling me how brave, beautiful and strong I was.
    
     I didn't feel it. If anything I was the complete opposite.
    
     That's when the dam broke and for the first time that night, I cried; cried listening to my mother's whispers of sweet nothings. I cried till I had no more tears to give out, finally drifting off to what would become the first of many nightmares.