Grace
I should have never fallen asleep. I should have never crawled underneath that desk. But, I did. And now my body is sore, my head hurts like hell, and Im going to be late walking home. But can you blame me? I thought it was Ethan who was pounding and kicking the door.
Almost getting run over by the same guy who smokes up a room I was trapped in hasn't been the highlight of my day either. Having to practically run from the room as soon as he left to get my jacket from my locker was a challenge. I had no idea if Ethan was still around looking for me and I was panicking the whole time. I accidentally tripped over one of the 'caution: wet' signs the janitors leave all about the place, and now my feet hurt with each step that I take, and my bag starts to increase in weight as if its filled with bricks. Just thinking about the distance I have to walk with this weight on my shoulder makes me want to curl up in a ball right here in the middle of the street and cry.
But then some realization kicks in.
"Oh God, dad is going to kill me." I blurt out to myself.
The thought parades around in my head for a good while. Just walking into the house when he's home and food isn't on the table just... it just.. No. No Grace. Do Not think about this now.
Sniffling my nose and continuing to walk up the block in the foggy weather I make sure only one thought remains in my head, or so I try. That one thought is to just breathe. And though it does stop the tears from almost leaking, it doesn't push the other worries I have out of my head. So, I start thinking. Maybe he's not home yet. He doesn't get home until around 6. It can't be that late yet. But then again who knows? I fell asleep and only have myself to blame. I don't know how long I was in that closet.
My watch doesn't even work anymore so its no use in wearing. The little hand in it got stuck when the glass cracked after being pushed on the floor too many times. And I have no phone, I mean seriously, me? Who do I have to call? And who do I know that would call me?
So I guess that would be it for now. I'd just have to guess. It has to still be at least around 5:20. Maybe then I can make it home and quickly put something together. I mean, something is better than nothing? Right? Well it would have to be for tonight. So I quicken my pace, despite the feet ache and heavy bag.
It takes about ten minutes more of walking before I can make out my house through the mistiness. The average sized creme colored house with the basic stone walkway and paved driveway. His car isn't parked there which means he's not home.
Yes! Yes yes yes!
I quickly rush up to the house, fumbling around in my bag trying to get my keys out. Finally finding the key, and shoving it through the lock, I don't even take a moment to take off my jacket or shoes and instantly rush into the kitchen to wash my hands and get started on dinner.
Opening the refrigerator, my eyes scan the items inside quickly before pulling out the tomato sauce and grated cheese in the small packages. I set it down on the small island and remember the ground turkey sitting in the freezer. After pulling out the pot and boiling the sauce, adding water, some seasoning, and beans, I start to brown the thawed meat in the pan.
After a few minutes when the meat is no longer pink I dump it into the tomato concoction and stir it to finish cooking. Rushing around the kitchen has become pretty normal for me. Its been the same the past few years. Ever since the last time I saw my mom. I don't know where she went. But I refuse to believe that she left. Maybe she'll come back soon. She was always pretty here, there, and almost everywhere kind of person. And she did the same thing when I younger. But this is the longest its been. 5 Years. I haven't seen her since I was twelve. A couple days after my twelfth birthday to be exact. But I'll be eighteen In January, a few days after and that'll make it 6 years.
I shake my head, trying to get the thought of her out of my head. When the food is done I spoon it out into a bowl and set it on the table, sprinkling the cheese over it. After that's done, I slice a few pieces of bread and shove them into the mini toaster oven to get crispy. Taking the opportunity to change my clothes while the bread is crisping, I walk up the stairs and into my bedroom.
My room isn't extra large in size, or average, and is actually small, but its not cramped and that's good enough for me. The walls were painted a light rosy color and the full size bed was placed in the corner near my window. I walked over to drawer and pulled out a regular gray t shirt and black sweatpants and head into the bathroom to check out today's damage.
Placing the clothes on the hook attached to the wall, I unravel the little tie and unzip the jacket letting it fall on the cold tile, and take then off my shirt. Just standing there, looking at myself in the mirror I start to really take in my appearance. The huge purple bruise settling on my right cheek from the punch, the dried up blood on my bottom lip, and the red hand marks left on my neck. All of the bruises are ugly shades, and disgusting. I breathing starts to speed up as my hands go and shakily lift up my shirt. The ugly purples and mixed scars settle terribly against my pale skin, and staring at it makes me wish I had the power to just put a band-aid and some ointment over it and have it look normal the next day. I close my eyes as I pull off my jeans and throw on my other clothes. My hands then turn on the faucet and wash my face off with water. Dried blood and all.
I gather the clothes on the floor in a little pile and put the shirt and jeans in the laundry basket, throwing the jacket straight into my room and shutting the door.
When I check on the bread its crisp enough to be dipped in the chili. I guess I made perfect timing with the food because as soon as I place the bread next to the bowl and finish up on the dishes, the number one person I dread the most in my life storms through the front door and the hallway, allowing the door to make a loud slam when it shuts.
My father has to be the most terrible person on this planet. He's just like Ethan, except he's two times stronger, three times older, and everything he says and does hurts way more. His footsteps make the loudest sound, and when he steps into the kitchen the first thing his eyes land on is the food placed on the table. He mutters angrily to himself about something while taking off his jacket, washing his hands in the sink and then sitting down to eat.
"Excuse me." I mumble quietly and leave the kitchen quietly to rest in bed. I would usually take this time to finish all my homework, but considering the events that happened today, there's barely any to complete.
Reaching my room I crawl up onto the bed and under the thin comforter, resting my on the cushiony pillow letting my thoughts run wild around in my head. And somehow, I fall asleep.
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My feet hit against the ground loudly. My throat burns and legs hurt badly. I don't know where Im going and everything around me is dark. I pull my arms into my chest as I keep running. Tears are streaming down my face and I just want to get away. All the things everyone says about me go on an endless chant in my head;
Worthless........Slut............Freak Whore..............
It gets louder and louder and my feet trip and stumble over everything. I crawl up into a ball on the cold concrete as the words get to the loudest point and then it stops all at once. The only thing I hear now is screaming. Except its not my voice.
"You thought you could get away from me?! You are Nothing without me!" The voice yells.
"I should have known you would have been exactly like your mother and end up as a big fat attention seeking slut!" Goes another one.
My body shakes violently and I let out a loud scream. I stop crying and open my eyes only to realize Im screaming all alone in my room.
Oh. It was only a nightmare.
Pulling my knees up against my chest I press my palms against my face. Its cold and wet. Just like last night. I glance at the clock next to my bed only to see that is 2:46 am in the morning. Looking down at my body I see that most of my top is drenched in sweat from my nightmare. My body curls up into the thin comforter and I try to stop shaking.
Nightmares are consistent for me. A night when I don't have one is actually quite rare. I don't know if its a bad thing to constantly have them, but if my life was different and I had to choose between having nightmares all the time or living one, I' d choose having them. My life is already a living nightmare.
After I've calmed down, I get up from bed, my throat feeling dry and sore from all the screaming. My feet make silent sweeps down the stairs, and through the hallways over the hardwood floor, careful to not create any loud creeks to wake up my dad.
I hear snoring and look to my left where the living room is. I shake my head at the sight of the empty beer cans surrounding the recliner he's sleeping on. Returning my attention back to reason I came downstairs, I reach on the handles of the refrigerator, pulling them slowly apart as to not make any loud noise. I quickly grab a water bottle and close it. The fridge makes a small slam, but I hear him shifting around on the recliner, the leather making squeaky noises ad loud groggy words come out of his mouth.
Making a quick but silent dash upstairs, I wait until i reach my bedroom to drink the water. Sitting down on my bed, I unscrew the cap and drink it. The cool water rushes down my throat, and I can feel it traveling down and resting in my stomach.
After taking a few more gulps, I place the cap back on, set the water on my nightstand and lay back down.
"Please let this week finish already." I murmur to myself, shutting my eyes.
Promise the next update will be sometime this week!