"please let go of me." I cough and sputter as the grip around my throat tightens.
"Dad.." I cough and spit, but it's no good. Anger fills his eyes, veins grow to the side of his face, his teeth grit as his finger tips tighten around my fragile neck.
My breathing becomes more rare and I can feel less oxygen flowing through my body, making me feel wheezy and faint.
When I had nothing left in me and my hazel eyes close for what I think could be the last time, my fraile body falls limp to the floor and I cough desperately for air.
"Now go." he spits.
"You've got school in the morning." He says, as he turns his back and walks away almost as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't almost taken my life.
I run up the stairs, tripping over my own footsteps, stumbling into wall to wall, trying to reach my room.
I run towards the oak polished door, and slam it behind me, tripping against the wall.
I slide down and place my head in my hands, and that's when the tears start to fall.
is this all life had planned out for me? No real true parents, I wasn't planned, I almost certainly guarantee that I wasn't.
this thoughts keep running through my head, like a gust of wind, containing all my worst fears, like;
-what if he kills me?
-am I good enough?
-what does the world have in store for me?
-Why am I still here?
these thoughts process my mindset, and I was triggered.
I walk to my bathroom, to find the blade left there, stained red from the previous incident me and my parents had.
'phew' I breathe big breaths, as my heart starts pumping faster, and the adrenaline flows through my blood.
(Warning; this may be a trigger to you. please do not proceed if you currently are clean and are struggling. PS I love you. if you need anything. If you direct message me on here, I'll listen. I'll care. I'm proud of all of you guys.)
this is it, one hard push, one clean cut, to end it all. One trail of blood, one life lost, an angel gained. Happiness restored to me, a young girl finally at peace.
I look down to the blade, and then look directly at my reflection in the mirror.
There I am. Long, black, straight hair, touches my hip, my hazel eyes, glossy and red. Olive toned skin, stained with tears, and my face. Mascara runs down my cheeks, leaving a charcoal effect to where it had touched.
this was me.
I reach for the blade, it's cold surface sends shivers down my spine, as I get a tighter grip on it.
I place the blade to my wrist, and close my eyes.
Silence.
I press harder and harder, as it gently makes an imprint to my skin.
As I thought I had made the final cut, my mum frantically storms into the room, to where I stood.
She stands there, in a red tight body con dress, which barely covered her, liquor in one hand, a cigarette placed precisely in her finger tips, held in place by the glass of liquor.
Her free hand approaches me fast, as I stop in my tracks, frozen. Her hand hits my cheek, sending me crashing to the ground.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU PATHETIC BITCH?!" She screams, blasting a chill in the air.
"I-I-" I stutter, what can I say? at least, what couldn't i say.
"want attention? want help? WANT TO SEEM NEEDY!" The tone of anger in her voice got louder and louder until she was screaming, and the tears from my eyes flow.
"WELL?!" she shouts, as she throws her glass against the wall, causing it to smash above my head.
"I'm sorry." I say.
"you will be." she simply replies, taking a puff of her cigarette, and dropping it, crushing the ash into my cream carpet.
She picks up a red stiletto, and approaches me quick, and then bam.
She hit me with her stiletto heel, and continued to, above my ribs.
"YOU. UNGRATEFUL. BITCH." she says in-between hits.
"there." she says as she finished, leaving me curled on the floor, struggling to breathe, coughing and gasping.
"Night." she says, switching of the light, leaving me on the floor, battered and bruised.