CHAPTER TWO

I am pacing nervously in the kitchen, my body shaking with nerves, awaiting my stepfather. Why? WHY! Why didn't I leave when I had the chance? My heart picks up and beats a rapid tattoo against my chest. My knees quake and for some reason I feel like I have to visit the bathroom.

His footsteps pound up the stairs, throwing me into a state of panic. Not knowing where to run, I halt my nervous pacing and simply look at my stepfather. Beau's face is red with rage. My heart almost stops, and then beats against my chest sickeningly hard, I fear it may burst through my ribs. The beat is like thunder in my ears, and I wonder if he can hear it.

He advances in what seems to be slow motion, and I shake my head and mumble, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I end with a sob and I raise my hands pitifully, as if to fend him off.

"'Sorry'? Sorry?! That cuts no ice with me." Beau responds with eyes that are as hard and bright as burnished steel, red-hot contempt etched into every line of his aging features as he studies my pale shaken face. "How dare you look at me and insult my intelligence with that pathetic excuse of a word, 'sorry'?" he takes a threatening step towards me, I feel his hot breath fan my cheek and inwardly cringe "You have no idea what I have been through." He continues, "Tonight, is the last straw. I want you to leave." From behind his eyes I see power, quaking to be released.

I step back, now pinned against the counter. My throat convulses and I swallow loudly.

"I've put up enough from you." Beau grabs a handful of my fine hair and tugs my head up. Tears sprout in my eyes and spill over onto my cheeks without a thought from me. "I don't care where you go, just leave."

I sob, "I never did anything to you!" my voice breaks with emotion and my cheeks flame in humiliation.

I should have kept my mouth shut. Suddenly, my hair is dragging me up the stairs. Strands rip out of my scalp and I cry out, struggling to be released. But my struggles are in vain. He is much stronger than I realized and he clamps my to his side then hits me in the face with his fist. My head flares in pain and I go limp, my vision fogs and I am close to passing out.

Reaching the upstairs he shoves me to the wall and the back of my head strikes it, plaster cracking. I slump to the ground, finding that my legs can no longer support me. My stepfather's legs stride angrily away down the stairs.

I hear a scream. My mother. A loud crash silences her scream. I press my fingernails into the flesh of my palms, the biting crescents nearly drawing blood. Beau's footsteps start to stomp up both flights of stairs and I fear I may lose control of my bladder at any moment. He has never been this bad before, in all his anger, he has never struck my mother before. But I am too weak to do anything about it.

A warm, wet, sticky substance leaks from a spot on my forehead. I reach a trembling hand to my head. Pushing silky hair to the side I investigate. There is a gash just inside of my hairline and I wince as my fingers accidentally brush the wound.

Angry fingers bite into my shoulder. It startles me because I hadn't realized he was so close. He jerks me upright and throws me into the wall on the other side of the hall. Hard. Pain as hot as fire blazes up my side as I strike the mirror on the wall and fall onto the floor.

Groaning, my arms hug my injured side. My long honey coloured, gossamer fine hair swirls around me like a cloud of dust, keeping my face in shadow. I hadn't realized he was so strong. What did he do? Lift trucks?

The large mirror above me shatters upon impact and sparkles as the shards cascade around me. Beau, who had followed me as I had sailed through the air, kicks me in the chest, and I wheeze for air. My lungs close up, and my head feels like it is about to burst from pressure. My heart thumps erratically.

"Get up!" he screams in my ear, and, not waiting for a response, drags me up roughly and smashes me into the wall again. He is breathing hard, the whites of his eyes are almost completely red, and he paces in front of my still body. The wall is the only thing that is keeping me up at the moment.

My hand does not tremble when I shove the hair off my face and glower him in the eyes. My fear is not gone, but a strange calm ripple passes over my body. My amber eyes are rock hard when I lift my chin.

"What's wrong with you?" he strikes me high on my chest with his hard fist. I can't help but flinch as I hear and feel the sickening crunch of my collarbone. I am white hot with pain as I fall over and gasp for breath. Blood bubbles up in my throat and my spit is red as I heave with exertion; trying to breathe.

Crowing with success, the sick man starts to kick me in the abdomen.

Not that I can feel anything anymore. As a matter of fact, my body is nice and peaceful. My mind drifts away from the man beating on a girl in the hall. It's all so fuzzy. My vision blurs, and starts to fade.

I black out, and my mind soars with freedom. I don't know how long I passed out for, seconds, most likely. When I come to again he is still hitting me. He strikes me in the face repeatedly. I struggle to focus at the crazed man in front of me but I throw my hands up to my face instead, feeling the tenderness and the heat there, knowing that my fair skin was already purple and swollen.

My face goes numb as he continues to hit me after roughly shoving my hands away, but I still refuse to respond. I can't; I don't think I can even move. Finally, Beau stops to give himself a rest.

I sink to the ground, I am breathing hard as I close my eyes and wait for the next hit. When I feel him steady his body and prepare to strike again, that calm wave passes over me again, making my body relax. I can hear him move, and let fly is fist.

When the strike does not come I open my eyes to a squint. Beau stands there with a shocked look on his face.

"How did you do that?!" he rages, spit flying from his mouth, and sweat trickles down his face.

With enormous effort, I blink and connect momentarily to angry, puzzled eyes that I would never have dared to meet had I been in full control of myself, "What?" I double over with the pain piercing in my abdomen and chest.

Beau vents an angry growl and grips the lapels of my sweater, lifting me up slightly, "How did you do that?!" he rakes down at me with aggravated urgency.

It is such an effort for me to concentrate, to speak, "What are you talking about?" my tongue is thick inside my mouth, "What... did I do?" I wheeze into stunned silence.

His rage comes back, "You're a fucking mutant!" he screams and kicks me, sending me flying down the stairs. Loud, painful thumps are heard as I crash down the stairs. I feel, rather than hear the loud crack of my arm as it breaks.

Mutant? My hazy brain swims in pain and I black out once more. Sweet, sweet oblivion.