Flashbacks (On Hold)

Crashing Down

        After I tried to cover up the bruises, Frankie and Hunter came home. "Miles?" I heard her call out. "Be right there!" I shouted back to her. I quickly put the ice in the trash and began to put my shirt back on. "Why did you leave school early?" Hunter immediately asked me. "Oh, I was helping dad with some campain stuff." I lied straight in his face. "Why didn't he get us out then?" Frankie questioned. I felt uneasy lying to my siblings, but it would be the only way to protect them from the dangers of our own father. "Ask him. Maybe it is because I'm older Franks." She stuck her tongue out at me. She faked punched me on my hip. I covered it with my hand and leaned up against the wall. "What's happening there?" She looked worried. So did Hunter. I will never tell them about our dad. Never. "Oh, you saw. That kid in the hallway pushed me, pretty hard." Hunter looked at Frankie and shrugged. They headed in the kitchen.

        Later, my mom got home. My dad came late. We were eating dinner when he showed up. When he came in he didn't even take a glance at me. I put my hand over my purple and black bruises so no one could see them. Even though my shirt was covering them and they were under the table anyways. "So how was everyone's day?" my mom broke the silence. "Great." Hunter didn't look up from his PC. "Fine." Frankie actually made eye contact with her. "How about you Miles? Your dad said that he pulled you from school to work on some campain stuff." I looked at my dad. He took a glance towards me, then towards mom. "Yeah, it was really fun." I sarcastically answered, but no one could tell except my dad. 

        When dinner was over my family went to go for a interview. I told my mom I wasn't feeling good. And the truth is, I wasn't. After they left I kicked my door closed. I started hitting the door with my fist. I started to take my pants off. Whatever, I am sleeping in my boxers, so what? No one was home anyways. I looked out my window to see if the car would ever pull up. It wasn't so I backed up against my wall. I rushed my fingers through my hair. A tear rolled down my face. Then a whole bunch. I took my shirt off. I looked at all the bruises. I thought of all the mental bruises too. I shook my head. Nobody at school likes me. Nobody at home understands me. Especially my dad. I want someone to understand me. No, I need someone to understand me. Someone who needs the same things I do. Who hates the world too. And just wants to, I don't know, die? Who am I kidding? No one will ever understand what I'm going through. Every breathing second or day. Why could I think anyone would understand? I am just a reject with no life. Maybe I should just go.