Atlas Grove, once a dancer with dreams of dancing under the stars, now lives petrified in the shadows of abuse. To escape her living nightmare she must keep her head down and work hard, being her senior year this is her last chance to get out. Altho...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The smell of homemade pizza floats around us as I push open the front door, warmth from our small house hitting me in the face, relaxing my tensed jaw. It's one of the nights my mom gets off, thank god, which means she likes us all to cook and eat together- she's insistent on family time, feeling guilty for working as much as she does. Atlas is tucked under my arm, her lip body clutching at my back as I try and hold her up. She's drained, physically and mentally and it kills me to see her like this, a shell of such a bubbly girl. The ride here was silent bar her ragged breathing and occasional whimpers, I held her hand the entire drive. I didn't want to let go, petrified she'd slip away. I don't think she wanted to let to either, her tiny hand squeezed mine like it was her last lifeline- and I swear to god, I won't let her slip away... but I'm slightly concerned she already has.
I close the front door with a slight bang causing my mom to look around the corner of the kitchen, "There you are, you could have texted me... oh I didn't know we were having a diner guest Blaze." Her tone is boarding on harsh with an edge, her face is tight when she disappears back into the kitchen. She hates when I don't let her know what's going on or if I'll be late home and she's not fond of me just turning up with people... I don't blame her and I know as soon as she sees Atlas her strict parent demeanour will vanish, she's too kind and loving to be a strict parent.
Atlas tenses under my arm looking ready to bolt out the door but I edge her into the kitchen, my hand on the small of her back trying to miss any of her bruises.
"Mom..."
She doesn't look up from the oven, "I didn't know you were coming Atlas otherwise I would have made more food."
"Mom."
"Practice ended over an hour ago Blaze, where have you-" She finally turns away from the oven ready to lash into me but her eyes widen barbarically when she looks at Alas' frail body, face pailing, "Honey, oh my lord. What happened." She rushes over to her, cupping her face. Atlas jumps back, tenses up, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.
"Sorry," She wobbles. I squeeze her shoulders.
"It's alright... why don't you come to sit down." My mom cautiously pulls out a barstool giving her a wide berth but Atlas won't let go of me. She looks up at me frightened and so unsure of herself so I make a show of pulling out the other barstool and setting it close to hers. She flops down into the seat, wincing when her torso slouches.
"They... they look like nasty marks on your face. How did you get them?" My mom places her hand on her arm lightly. She settles into the touch, looking at the bruises under her fingers. Having cried off all her make up the dark patches of skin on her face look much more horrific in the kitchen light.
"I...I..." She looks like she's struggling between telling the truth and lying, torn between the freedom of letting people in and the life she's been living for god knows how long. It's all too much and she bursts into floods of tears again. My mom acts on her motherly instincts and quickly pulls her into a hug, only holding Atlas tighter when she tries to flinch away. My mom looks over at me concerned, lips parted in shock.
