Hopelessly Drowning

Chapter 1

I woke, the darkness in my room suffocating me as I attempted to regain my bearings. A cold draft swept through the room, sending shivers down my spine. The thin sheets did nothing to protect me from the icy chill. The musky scent of alcohol and marijuana seeped through the cracks in my door. The piercing sound of a siren echoed through the house once more, and yanked me out of my sleep-induced haze. I slowly stood up, my bones sore from the beating I had received mere hours ago.

"You worthless little brat, can't you do anything right! No wonder your mother didn't want you!!" The hoarse voice of my stepfather roared as he reared his hand back to hit me once more. I flinched, cowering into the wall, a pathetic attempt to protect my already bruised and broken body. I was helpless in the face of his rage, maybe he was right. Was I so much of a burden that my mother felt the need to leave me in the hands of this monster?

I snapped out of my flashback, tugging on a torn sweatshirt for warmth. I began to slowly make my way toward my door. My hand rested on the handle, listening for any movement before I slowly turned it and silently slipped out the door. The red and blue lights of a cop car flashed, momentarily blinding me. I heard loud knocks outside the front door, and a jolt of fear ran through me; questions swirled through my mind. The flashing lights caused eerie shadows to dance upon the walls. I took a step forward and pain shot up my right leg. I flinched and leaned heavily against the wall for support. My vision began to swim, and I forced my eyes open, inching along the wall to the door at the end of the hallway. I finally reached the door despite the pain which crashed through my body in waves. I looked up at the chipped wooden door with its rusty brass handle, the want to turn back and hide in my room was stifling. 

"Never open the door you little brat, wouldn't want anyone seeing you now would we."

My stepfather's sinister warning echoed in the back of my mind, and the hand reaching towards the handle hesitated. The knocking started up once again, louder and more urgent. I gulped, my throat dry as I debated on whether to answer or hide. I felt as if I was on the edge of a cliff torn between the decision of whether to jump off, away from everything I had ever known, or retreat back to the familiar constricting fear I had lived with for so long. I wanted to be heard, be seen, and at the same time, I wanted to retreat back into my shell, to protect myself from anything or anyone else who would harm me. I looked out over the cliff battling against the need to run, and finally, in a split-second decision, fueled by the primal need to be free, I jumped. I reached out and turned the door handle, pulling away the only barrier between me and the unknown on the other side.

I came face to face with a policewoman, hand raised to knock once more. Widened green eyes stare down at me scanning my battered appearance, eyebrows furrowing as she saw the bruises marring my face.

"Are you Elizabeth Kennedy?" she asks.

"Yes," I say quietly, my voice hoarse.

" I am sorry to tell you this but, your stepfather, Mr. Smith was killed in a drunk driving accident." She said solemnly.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart began to beat faster and I felt as if I was underwater, all the sounds around me quieted into background noise. The fear that he had instilled in me from the moment my mother left, should've loosened its unyielding grip on my heart, but instead, it tightened, the feeling almost paralyzing. I wanted to feel happy, feel relieved that he was gone, but I couldn't. My breaths came out shallow, I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. My stomach clenched with unknown emotion, a lump formed in my throat, it was then I realized that I was alone, completely and utterly alone.