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Last Line: Another line was stretched from just under my bust, straight and determined, pushed into my hip, for all the hurt stored inside me. It didn't used to be this way.
It was eleven o'clock when I finally heard the front door squeak open and slam shut. Dad was home, after being gone for sixteen hours.
I was upstairs in my room with a chemistry binder open on my lap and medical terminology Flashcards spread about my feet. Finals were next week and I needed to pass if I had any hope of getting into Harvard. Junior finals are important, after all. There was some music playing faintly in the background, and I didn't even think about getting up to greet him. I just assumed he would be drunk and raging. It's better when he's like this if he just collapses into bed before remembering about me. But he didn't forget tonight.
"MADISON ANN. GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW." His voice was raspy as it boomed up the stairwell. Save me now. He sounds pissed.
Jumping up quickly I tripped over my Chem binder and smashed some of the Flashcards under my heels. Steadying myself on the doorway, I tried to be both quick and quiet as I made my way to him. But I fell again on the stairs, my clumsy feet just couldn't find their place on the ground and I fell on my hands and knees at the bottom. Oh god. He's gonna kill me. I'm gonna die. Right here and right now. He already thinks I'm enough of a disaster.
I was right. As soon as I raised my head and started to stand up, brushing the sweat forming on my palms on the thigh of my sweatpants, his big hands were on my shoulders. He turned my back until it was facing the wall, and then slammed me backwards. The thud of my head hitting the drywall was enough to send my stomach spinning. He pulled me up, until my feet were dangling inches above the ground. I swear he's stronger drunk. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you clutz? Can't you do a damn thing right? Such a fuck up you know that? Your mom would be so disappointed in you." When he was done yelling for the moment, he dropped me back on my feet, but before I could bring my hands up to protect my face his fist connected with my jaw. The crack was deafening, he was so much stronger than me, and I could hear my body screaming out against the strike. I blacked out for a moment, everything got fuzzy and warm. He never got the second swing in before the front door was thrown open with unreasonable force, smacking against the wall, leaving a wide hole where the doorknob was, and two guys stepped through.
They were tall and they had an angry hunger in their eyes. The kind that I knew went down to the pits of their souls. I heard something vaguely similar to a whimper come out of my mouth, as the two men approached my dad and me. The guy on the left took Dad and pushed him, strong and hard, so he fell on his backside. I'd never seen anyone do that before. The other guy was headed towards me. I crouched down low, hiding behind myself. Be small. Be small. No eye contact. Look at the ground. This tactic worked for Dad once, not anymore, but once. This guy was undeterred by my defense and he bend over to reach my height picking me up roughly and holding me be the waist he whispered in my ear "Don't you worry baby doll we're gonna take real good care of you. Take you home with us. You'll live for many more days." His calloused hands covered my mouth holding in the scream threatening to burst from within me. That ugly man held me like that, arms around my body, suffocating me, while watching my dad struggle for his life.
He fought the man, who was probably larger than the one around me, trying to keep him at a distance. But this guy was too good for my sober dad, my plastered, abusive dad didn't have a chance. That didn't make what I saw any easier though. The man bashed Dad's head against the kitchen countertop, blood dripping from the open gash on his forehead. Once he was out of it, he bend his neck far to the side, and I watched as a second set of teeth dropped down from his gums. They were mean teeth, long and jagged, and he sunk them deep into my father's neck. I watched as he grew limp under the man's grip. The goon holding me dropped me on the ground, pushing me back against the wall. "Jack, it's your turn to watch the girl, I want my half of the drunk."
'Jack' turned to face the guy who used to be holding me, "Fine. But I'm not going to deal with this girl's shit." He unsheathed a long knife from his belt and came at me. I flinched, but was unable to get away. I was at his mercy, and he didn't look very forgiving.
When his knife was inches away from my stomach, he quickly plunged it deep into my gut, I screamed out at the fire erupting from the place below my ribs. My lungs didn't seem to hold enough air to satisfy the demand of my brain.
While my eyes were closed, trying to pull the pain out of my middle and put into into the imaginary triangle at the base of my skull, just like Dad once taught me, the ugly man's head was sliced, falling off his shoulders, hitting the ground, rolling towards me. It was getting closer and I screamed, scrambling up as best I could with my hand pressed against the part of me that was pouring out, trying to get away from the head, but I was caught, ran right into the man, who probably cut off my assault's head. He was wearing a leather jacket that was worn and faded, but his face was the opposite; his eyes bright green, and full of concern
"Whoa. Hey. Hey. It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. My name's Dean and this my brother, Sam." He said gesturing to the tall guy wearing plaid. He was standing over the body of my father, and the headless figure of the guy who held me back.
I backed up, against the wall, although I had nowhere to go. I put out my arm, keeping him at distance. But I was starting to loose my grip. This cut was so much deeper than I had ever gone before, and I was getting dizzy. Sliding down to the floor, my vision was dancing with black, I managed to wheeze out a "Don't touch me." Before I completely lost consciousness.
When I came to, I was in the back of a car, with a stranger pressing something against my stomach. Instantly I panicked, jerking up, and away from his warm embrace, I pushed myself as far against the other side of the car as I could. "What the hell do you want with me?" I screeched.
"Calm down. We aren't going to hurt you. You got cut up pretty bad, Dean and I are talking you to the hospital." It was only then that I realized there were two of them in the car. The one with the leather and the green eyes in the front, the giant in plaid was with me.
Dean turned back look at us. "You're safe with us. Don't worry." He said softy before turning back to the road.
I they're going to take me to the hospital. They'll want records. They'll investigate. They'll put me in foster care or a group home. No no no. I can't do that.
"No. No. Please don't take me to the hospital. I can fix this. I just need a first aid kit. I can't go to the hospital. No. No hospital." My voice was getting faster, more anxious. I was about to have a panic attack and I was still squished as far away from the boys.
"Okay. Okay. You need to calm down. You're only making that bleed worse. We won't take you to the hospital." The plaid one, Sam, told me.
"We won't?" Dean questioned from the front.
"No. We won't. We'll take her to the room. We can figure everything out from there. After she's fixed up. Okay? What's your name, kid?"
"Madison. And I'm not a kid." I growled back at him before my stomach erupted into pains like I'd never known before. It was burning hot and cold at the same time, my stomach was clenched, my head pounding against my the inside of my skull. I was going to pass out again soon, if I didn't calm back down.
The last thing I remember before I passed out for the third time was; "Dean, you better drive faster."
It was going to be a long night.