I don't want to live
To waste another day
Underneath the shadow of mistakes I made
Cause I feel like I'm breaking inside
I don't want to fall and say I lost it all
'Cause baby there's a part of me to hit the wall
Leaving pieces of me behind
And I feel like I'm breaking inside
Breaking Inside - Shinedown
In North Carolina there is a small town. This small town has nothing going for it except that it's high school football team has successfully won the championship three times. On one side is a dense, dark and mysterious forest that tails off on top of a cliff which in turn plummets straight down to the sea. There is one road into the town and one road out, okay so that part may not be completely accurate but you get the picture. It is a typical small town in that everyone knows everyone else and nothing goes unnoticed by someone in the town. The name of this town is unimportant, what is important is that it is made up of numerous archetypal streets but our story focuses on one in particular. Now upon this street there are ten houses, all of which stand within a plot of their own. One house in particular is of interest to this particular story.
From the outside the house looks like every other upon the street, it is a two storey house with an azalea lined drive leading up to the single garage. Parked on the driveway is a two year old, dark blue Ford, as well as a four year old Volvo parked in the street. If we ignore the garage and the cars and proceed directly to the white wooden front door which will swing open easily at the slightest touch we enter the house which is as normal on the inside as it is on the outside. Listening carefully we can hear the sound of raised voices coming from one of the rooms downstairs, however these voices are not the focus of the story, that lies up the wooden stairs.
Moving slowly up the stairs, avoiding the third one which creaks, we come to a typical second storey. There are three doors off the hallway, the first which is closed leads to the master bedroom, this room we can bypass and continuing on down the hall we pass the ajar door of the bathroom and come to a halt in front of the only other door. This door is closed and locked from the inside but as our tale concerns the occupant of the room we can enter the room unobstructed.
Upon entering the room the first thing which is to be noted is that it is bathed in darkness even though the sun has been fully risen for a couple of hours. Turning to the window it becomes clear why, the occupant of the room has kept the blinds closed and has even covered the window with a sheet to keep out any remaining strands of light. The room itself is of an average size, with windows on the south and east facing walls. There is a single bed pressed up against the north wall and a bookshelf and chest of drawers are located on either side of the door we entered through. The walls are covered in faded floral wallpaper which has been on the walls since the day they moved in.
The occupant of the room is sat on the window seat set into the recess of the window on the east facing wall, sat is a slight exaggeration, huddled would probably be a better term. Their knees are drawn up to their chest; their head is covered in a hooded sweatshirt making it impossible to determine sex from our position. The individuals head whips around as they hear something downstairs; there is a look of pure unadulterated fear in their eyes which shines through the gloom that makes it otherwise impossible to see the person's face. Let's turn our attention to what has caused such a reaction in our subject.
"You are sleeping with him aren't you?" A male voice shouts.
"Don't be stupid he is a child!" A female voice shouts back.
"Don't call me stupid you whore, you are the fucking stupid one! I bet that useless thing upstairs will tell me if I ask!" The male voice shouts.
"No! You don't get to-" the female voice starts to respond. Before she can get to the end of her sentence there comes the sound of flesh connecting with flesh followed by the tinkling of breaking china and the collapse of something heavy. Not long after that heavy footfalls can be heard upon the stairs and along the hallway, they come to a halt outside the door; a halt which is quickly followed by the rattling of the doorknob. The rooms occupant jerks further into the corner of the window seat as they watch the handle rattle in the hand of the person on the other side.
"How many times do I have to tell you that there are no locked doors in my house!" The male voice shouts as the sound of his foot against the door reverberates through the room. On the second kick the door gives in and swings back to collide with the bookshelf, dislodging a few volumes. The occupant of the room just watches helplessly as they fall, longing to pick them up but knowing that if they move the man will notice them. He ambles into the room and from his movement it is possible to discern that he is clearly over the legal limit. He is so drunk that upon first glance around the room he completely ignores the figure in the window. The figure breathes a sigh of relief as his gaze sweeps past them, that is the figures first and only mistake of the day though as the man focuses directly upon the sound. He allows a second or two for his vision to focus correctly before he walks over to the occupant.
"Is that slag sleeping with Chris?" He shouts, sending spit flying into the figures face. They stare blankly at him and refuse to answer knowing from experience that any answer they give is going to be wrong.
"Answer me you pathetic, little twat!" The man shouts getting angrier, he reaches out his hand and wraps his fingers around the figures arm and wrenches hard dislodging them from their perch and sends them flying across the room and into their bed. The individual smacks their head on the wooden leg of the bed, we notice that the hood has slipped slightly and it is possible to see that the figure is that of a girl, no more than eighteen. The girl slowly sits up and although the connection must have hurt she refuses to allow any sign of pain cross her features, she pulls her hood back over her head as the man moves to lift her up.
"What, are you not going to fight this time?" The man asks as he lifts the girl easily by her shoulders and throws her bodily into the wall. The girl begins to slide to the floor only to be stopped by the man; he places one of his large hands around her throat and lifts her so that he is holding her up so her eyes are level with his own.
"You think I don't see the hate and loathing in your eyes every time you look at me?" He whispers, his face so close to the girls that she can smell the alcohol on his breath. His eyes search out hers and hold them a moment before he speaks again. "Where do you think you would be without me? You would be nobody! I could kill you, did you know that? I could kill you and nobody would care. You have no friends, thanks to me." He whispers and despite her best efforts the pained look on the girls face gives away the fact that she knows he is telling the truth.
The man is so focused on the girl who is slowly turning blue in front of him that he fails to notice the figure creeping silently up behind him until the wooden baseball bat connects with the back of his head. The woman wielding the weapon is in her late thirties, of slight build with long blonde hair, she instantly drops the bat as the man collapses to the floor releasing the girl and allowing her to take enough breaths so that we no longer have to worry about her immediate death.
"Are you okay honey?" The woman asks quietly as she moves to the girls side.
"Are you?" The girl asks as she shakily points out the bruise and the gash on the woman's face. The woman gingerly reaches up and places two fingers against the stickiness of the blood which has begun to slide down her cheek.
"I'll be fine," the woman says as she attempts to smile. "Seriously how are you?" She asks again as she reaches over and slides down the girl's hood in order to see the truth on her face as she speaks.
"Okay I guess," the girl answers quietly as she massages her throat gently.
"I am so sorry baby, is there any way you can forgive me?" The woman asks as she slides one of her small hands through the girls now revealed brown hair.
"It's not your fault mom," the girl responds.
"It is, but let's talk about it later. Now I want you to pack only what you need we are leaving. I'll give you five minutes then I want you in the car." The mother and daughter rise together, the elder picks up the bat and begins to leave the room with it before obviously deciding better. "I'll leave this with you, just in case." She explains as she lays it down on the dresser before walking out the room. The girl springs instantly into action, sliding slowly past the unconscious man she reaches under her bed and pulls out a bag into which she throws all her clothes and everything essential. Walking over to her bookshelf she reaches for her copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall that her father had bought her the year he died. Glancing once more around her room she notices the picture of her father on her bedside table, knowing she is already pushing her mother's time limit she quickly dashes to grab the picture before moving out of the room and down the stairs. When she reaches the bottom step her mom appears out of the kitchen wearing a pair of sunglasses in a vain attempt to hide the bruise around her left eye.
"You ready to go?" She asks, in answer the girl raises her bag and glances back up the stairs half expecting to see the man stood there. "Then let's go," the woman picks up her own bag from beside the door and leads the girl out and to a car parked on the road in front of the house. The pair moves directly to the Volvo and throw the bags quickly in the boot before rushing to the front seats and climbing in.
"What if he tries to follow?" The girl asks as she pulls her seatbelt across her body.
"He'll have a job with the slashes in his tyres, I figured it was the least I could do." The girl forces a smile, a smile which falters as soon as she sees the man come wandering aimlessly out of the front door. The woman doesn't wait two seconds as she jams her key into the ignition, starts the engine and roars away leaving the man staring after the pair.
"Where are we going to go mom? I start college soon." The girl states quietly as she stares out of her window watching as the houses of her former friends slide quietly by.
"That's where we are going; thankfully he doesn't know where you are going so we should be safe for a while. I promise to make it up to you baby, I will make everything right again." The woman says just as quietly as they depart the town they both loved dearly. The girl doesn't answer just continues to stare blankly out of the window leaving her mother to wonder just how much damage had been caused to her pride and joy. Little did the woman know but her daughter was wondering the same thing, the only difference was that everything the woman did from now on would be for the benefit of her daughter. Everything would be about making up for the years of terror that had definitely damaged her daughters psyche, everything would be about the best thing in her life, the only thing she had worth living for.
Let me know what you think, some of this is taken from experience and some I thankfully haven't had to live through. i'll leave you all to guess as to who the unlucky victim or victims are, but you might be surprised.
I know I have been away for a while, so for the minute I am going to have to reread my other story in order to remember how it is going to go. I had a few chapters written before my computer became attracted to my radiator and decided to break. Hence why I have been away for so long, but I am back now with new story ideas in tow as well.
Until next time XD
