My New Home

52. Hotel Hopping

~ WARNING! This chapter has self-harm & violence ~

Sadly. I woke up.

I woke up in the Backside Motel room. Alone. And with the biggest headache of my life.

I had the most amazing dream too; I was with Benji, at his wedding twenty-something years from now. I caught the flowers his mysterious partner threw and there was Brent- standing with me with the most adorable look on his face.

I was still apart of the Anderson family, in this dream, and that made it the best dream I've ever had.

I didn't want to have one again though because that time of my life- the best might I add- was all over. It's over...over...over...?

I wanted to cry again, puke maybe too.

The time read 9:56AM on that damn digital clock. I stood then sat back again, my head hurt so bad and I was so dizzy that I had too.

After my head stopped spinning, I gently stood up & carefully made my way to the motels bathroom. After a few stumbles, I managed to open the door and get in.

I didn't brother shutting the door as I peed, he wasn't back yet. You could leave.... No I can't, it'll only lead to my family being hunted. By Jude of all people.

I finish up and turn the light on, seeing my reflect I gasped.

My PJs, a red oversized tee and black shorts, were dusty and dirty from being on the ground last night. That's not the worst of it.

My hair, short and black, was tangled and all over the place. My left eye was black and blue, probably from the punch from my father, my lip was busted & my nose- Oh my God! It was slightly crooked to the right now and there was dried blood underneath my nostrils.

I looked...abused.

Like I had been in some of the foster homes before the Andersons. I ran a hand through my hair & took one more long look at myself in the mirror.

I checked the medicine cabinet for anything that can help with the throbbing pain. There was nothing- well not nothing. No pills but there was some things- like a bottle of shaving cream and some razors. Ah! Just what I needed.

I'm not going to end it- not yet. If I did, I'm sure the Andersons wouldn't be safe. So- for the time being- I've got to live.

That doesn't mean I have to stop cutting. Plus it'll be the only thing that will keep me sane. I rolled up my sleeves, exposing my already scarred arms and- did it.

I did it more than usual. Harder. Deeper. Longer.

So very long that- in the middle of it- I heard the from door swing open.

I nearly dropped the damn thing razor down the sink but managed to I pocket it in my shorts and covered my arms in time. His head popped through the door and he smiled at me.

"Thought you maybe left- dumb I know, you'd never leave me, so anyways how are ya doing?" He came inside- without permission and looked me up & down before handing me a bag.

There was more ice and Advil, numbing gel too.

"Fine." I said, voice cracking.

"Let's get those wounds cleaned up."

He guided me to the toilet and made me sit on it; he started applying the cream on my eye and lip. He did this in silence.

He was silent- until, "I'm sorry about hitting baby but it had to happen- how you spoke to me at that prison visit and how you spoke to me on the phone will not fly anymore."