WARNING: This chapter is a little... violent. It's got mature, slightly graphic details of abuse, so if that makes you uncomfortable, you might not want to read this. Just thought you'd like to know. Sorry if this kind of seems like a tangent to those following the story, I promise it's relevant! Peace-Berries and Beans
You tried to be quiet as you snuck through the back door, seriously hoping your 'dad' would be out at a bar drinking tonight. Today had been Friday, it had also been the fourth night you had stayed after school to help Haley grade papers since you started school last week. The first two nights, you had been home at a decent hour, plus your father had been too stoned to notice you even made it back. The third time, he had been only slightly drunk and was very aware that you were home too late to have come straight from school.
The springs on the screen door creaked despite your desperate attempts to silence them with your deadlock grip on the door and a pace that would put a snail to shame. You glanced around to the other side of the kitchen at the clock hanging on the wall. 6:45. Damn it all. He's definitely going to call me out if he knows that school got out at 3. I knew I shouldn't have stayed after I was done to eat the sandwich Haley brought me!
Finally, the door was closed. Letting out a small breath, you turned around... and came face to face with your father. He had a beer in one hand and was leaning slightly, as if he was incapable of supporting his own weight in his drunken stupor. "Where th' hell wure 'oou, 'ou ungrateful 'ittle bitch?"You tried to look him in the eyes but couldn't, instead you choose to look to your left at the scratched, oak dining table. "I stayed after school to talk to my teachers."
SLAP! A sharp, stinging pain tore into your check and your head snapped to the left as he slapped you full force with his free hand. "DONT LIE TO ME 'OU LITTLE WHELP!" He grabbed your chin aggressively and forced you to turn your head and look at him. "Wat wure 'ou doin', sleepin' 'round wit a bunch a disgustin, no-good, punks who're never goin nowhere wit their lives? HUH?!" His hand clenched tighter and he shook your head roughly. If he doesn't let go he's going to break my jaw. Make him let go. You didn't think as the words tumbled out of your mouth. "Just like you?"
His right hand fell away from your jaw as his left swung the empty bottle up to whip across your face. You felt the bottle shatter as it slammed against your left temple and eye; glass shards dug into your skin. You let your knees drop out from under you and brought your hands up to cradle your face as you waited for his next hit. It didn't come. He snorted. "Who the 'ell am I kidn'. Nobody 'n their right mind wan' a ugly slut like 'ou anyways. Get your face clean'd up, cunt. Go t'da hospital or whatever, I don' care. Jus' don't tell 'em what happened. 'Else 'ou wont be walkin' the next time you go in there." He staggered out of the kitchen and you heard the door to his room slam shut.
You felt so relieved you could cry. Oh my God, what was I thinking?! That was the stupidest thing I've ever said, he could've killed me. NEVER DO THAT AGAIN. EVER. You grabbed a hold of the table and pulled yourself unsteadily to your feet. Dropping your backpack, you limped over to the medicine cabinet above the sink where you kept a small, secret stash of money in an old allergy medicine box that was just for emergencies. Your father was more likely to check your room than here.
You split the wad of money and put half of it into each of your deep pant pockets. The line your aunt had always used rang through your head, Never make it easy for people to steal all of what you have... After returning the box and closing the cabinet, you went to the freezer, opened the door, pulled out one of the packs of ice that you kept prepared for situations like this, and pressed it gently to the glass filled side of your face. You flinched and sucked in a deep breath. Ow, Ow, Ow! You took another deep breath and told yourself to think reasonably before you pulled the ice away from your temple. Just ignore the pain, you need the ice to keep the swelling down to make it easier for the doctors to get the glass pieces out. Moving quickly, before your father changed his mind about letting you go to the hospital like last time, you walked through the living room and out the front door.
You looked up the dusky sky and sighed. It was about a 20 minute walk to the hospital from your house, but it's not like you really had any other options. After all, you definitely weren't certain you'd be able to get all of the glass out of your face. Setting off at a decent pace (for someone who had just been hit in the face with a bottle and might possibly be suffering from a serious head injury) you headed toward the area where you knew the hospital to be.
By the time you arrived at the emergency room, you assumed that you probably had a concussion. You had stumbled, and almost fallen, three times in the last five minutes and couldn't remember exactly when your birthday was. Plus, you felt seriously dizzy and a little nauseous as you walked across the cracked sidewalk. The melted bag of ice had become a nuisance, so you dropped it into the trash can that was located several feet away from the hospital entrance. You approached the automatic doors unsteadily and blinked several times as they opened and the obnoxiously bright lights of the waiting room made your sensitive eyes water.
You took increasingly unsteady steps up to the front desk. The receptionist looked up from some papers, her warm smile immediately turned into a shocked and worried expression. You could only imagine how you looked right now. Blood dripping down and covering the whole left half of your face. You could feel the stiffness settle on your skin as it dried. And the glass shards lodged in your forehead certainly weren't helping at all. You swayed slightly as you attempted a controlled and calm conversation. "I-I think I might... have a concussion?" The room started to spin and suddenly the ground rushed up to meet you. Thunk. The receptionist's voice was slightly frantic and muted as she called for help. Footsteps echoed in the high ceiling of the room and they rung with a tinny, fading sound. The cold tiles of the floor made your nerves react as your body ached and your head pounded. Your nose twitched, registering the bleached smell of floor cleaner.
Suddenly, you felt warm, strong arms cradle your body as they flipped you over carefully and supported your back. One of the large hands reached up and gently cupped the back of your head, holding you as your face was tilted sideways. Brilliant sky blue eyes shone behind a thin rimmed pair of stylish glasses. They were etched with surprise and concern and completely dominated your vision. The guy's blond mane was framed with white edges as you started to black out. "Are you okay?" One last thought filled your mind as you lost consciousness.
Do I frickin LOOK okay to you?!