AN: New chapter's upC: Hope you guys like it.
The Angel of Death
Four: His Anger
I was at Georgie's house. It was around eleven or twelve o'clock. We were watching Phantom of the Opera. Shocker, right? Yeah, not really.
But, to appease Georgie, I sang along with her and the characters in the movie. Her with her beautiful soprano and me with my low alto.
It was during the silent part after Raoul and Christine had sung All I Ask of You at the end of the movie when Georgie turned to me, tears in her eyes. I smiled at her.
"Are you gonna go home or are you gonna stay?" She asked me.
"For the night?" I asked her.
"Yeah," She wiped a tear away.
I smiled at her again. She always got to emotional at the movie. She also always treated it like it was the first time she was watching it.
"I don't know," I told her honestly. "Can you see my house from here?" I asked her, looking out the windows.
"Not usually, but you can hear it from here," She told me. I nodded and perked my ears up, trying to hear and music blaring. It was silent.
"I think I'm gonna try to go home. If they're not partying, I'll stay there. But if they are," I said.
"Then you'll be back," She finished.
"Yeah," I said.
"Kay."
"See you later," I told her.
"Good night," She responded.
I grabbed my bag and left her house. The best thing about it being summer, besides the fact that I can stay in the library all day if I wanted too, is that the nights were warm. It meant I didn't need to wear a jacket. Summer had to be my favorite season.
I got to my house, and looked at it. It was dark and silent. I breathed a sigh of relief. And, if the universe loved me, my parents would be asleep.
I walked up to the door and opened it. Figures it wouldn't be locked. I slowly and quietly shut the door and started tiptoeing towards the large staircase. I was several steps up when the lights turned on. Shoot. I turned around to see my dad.
"Hey, dad," I smiled at him, trying to relax. He was a few yards away, but I could smell the alcohol on his breath. This wasn't good.
"Where have you been?" He demanded.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"The last couple of days, you haven't been around," His eyes were mad.
"Oh, I was spending time with Georgie. She, uh, just had a major break up and she needed girl time," I told him, hoping he believed my lie.
"And you never stopped to check in or call?" He demanded.
"I didn't know you cared," I told him. I was so tired of everything that was going on. I guess I finally snapped.
"What?"
"I said, I didn't know you cared," I said, louder.
"Oh, no. I heard what you said. I asked what hoping that you would change your story."
"I'm not gonna change it when it's the truth!" I lied again.
He leaped forward and grabbed my wrist. He squeezed it tightly and pulled. When I started to fall, he let go of me and stood back as I fell down the stairs. I tried to throw my arms out to stop myself, but I just hit my wrist, and pain shot up my arm.
I bit my lip and shook the pain away. I hit my head as well, and everything got fuzzy for a minute. I turned in the fall and landed on my wrist again. I was afraid that I had broken it.
I landed on the floor in a heap, and just laid there as I tried to process what had just happened. Before I could stand up, though, I heard my dad approach me. I turned to him just in time to see his foot heading straight for my chest.
He kicked me and I rolled away, trying to run. He grabbed me by my pony tail and slammed me to the ground again. He kicked me again, and I could hear something break in my chest. But I still didn't stop trying to get away. I stood up again and he looked at me. He then pulled his hand back and punched me. That would leave a mark, I thought. Great. A black eye.
Maybe I was in shock, not processing that my dad had just. I held my hand up to my face, touching the bruise that was forming quickly. I just stared at him.
"Get to your room!" My dad snarled, pointing up the stairs.
I just nodded, and walked towards the stairs. I held my left wrist, the one that I suspected was broken, to my chest and slowly and painfully climbed the stairs. I walked in the direction of my room. It was the third door on the right.
I opened the door and stared at the sight that greeted me. It was my mom rolling around in my bed with a stranger. I just gapped.
"Breeze... Oh, hey sweety," My mom said, turning towards me. I could tell she was drunk, like my dad.
I looked at the man in the bed with her. I had never seen him before.
"Uh, does Dad know?" I whispered.
"It doesn't matter," My mom laughed, leaning back.
They didn't even realize that it was my bedroom. I shook my head and headed in the direction of one of the guest rooms. I wouldn't be sleeping there again. I entered the guest room and looked at the bed.
If I had a concussion than it wouldn't be smart of me to sleep. I crawled into the bed anyway, and curled up in a ball.
My dad hit me. It had finally sunk in. He had hit me, and he didn't even seem sorry. And my mom was cheating on my dad. And she didn't seem to care. What was happening? Everything was falling apart.
~666~
I prayed with my whole being to whatever god that wanted to listen to me that he wouldn't show up today. I was back in the library, huddled up in the history corner. I had my knees close to my chest and a book hiding my face. I held my sore wrist, which was indeed broken, close to my chest too. I had put a few sticks together and wrapped it up so it wouldn't get worse.
I would go to the hospital later, when I had the confidence. It wasn't safe, I knew that, to just wait around while I had a broken wrist, but I just couldn't face people. They would ask what happened. I wouldn't tell them, but they would probably guess. My dad had hit me and broke my wrist.
No, he didn't break my wrist. I did. It was my fault. I guess I just didn't want to face that. People would blame him, but it was my fault.
I went back to praying that he wouldn't show up. Not that I didn't want to see Reaper, but I just couldn't. Not like this.
I didn't even hear him approaching me, but I knew he was there, staring at me. I shifted to peak over the top of the book, but squeaked. I should have wrapped my chest, I thought to myself. I hadn't even realized that I had been crying until Reaper said something.
"What happened?" He asked.
I looked away, trying to curl up into a ball even more. I was still hiding my face from him. He was a grown up. He would probably see my face and say, you're an abused child, I should call 911.
His hand entered my line of vision and he pulled the book away. I tried to twist away, but he grabbed my shoulder and turned me towards him. I looked at him through a swollen eye and tears. He looked me over, seeing my homemade wrapped up wrist.
"What happened?" He asked again. His voice was deadly. I shrunk back. I didn't answer.
"Your father?" He asked. I didn't say anything, but he probably saw some form of movement on my part that signaled that it was indeed my dad that had done this to me.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He demanded.
"I h-h-hit my head, and h-he kicked me too. I think I m-may have a broken rib or two," I told him, trying to hold my tears back.
He started massaging my shoulder and I collapsed in on myself and started sobbing. He continued to massage my shoulder while I cried. I gasped and then squeaked when I jostled my side that probably had the broken rib.
"Come on. I'd fix you up myself, but I would feel more comfortable if we had a doctor at a hospital do it," He told me. I just stared at him. Who was this man who said he could fix me up?
He helped me up and together we walked to the hospital that was several blocks away.
