Anastasia had never had an easy life. Living with an abusive step father and an even worse mother, Anastasia had accepted the fact that her life would not be getting any better. But their sudden death has given Anastasia hope, hope that she would in...
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TW- Attempted suicide, mentions of abuse. Please do not read if this could trigger you. I have not shown anything explicitly but it has still been made clear as to what is happening. Feel free to skip it. I do not want anyone to feel uncomfortable.
______________ The water in the bathtub was warm, the perfect temperature to lull you to sleep, it was kind of mesmerising to watch as the clear water slowly turned pink, drop by drop.
I had thought I would try and stay awake as long as possible, watch the small ripples in the water, but I suppose the pills were working their magic faster than I had anticipated, maybe I hadn't needed a plan B but the calming sensation of the water made me not think twice about it.
I finally let my head loose, and it hung back, resting it on the edge of the tub. My eyes fluttering close.
2 years ago
Everything hurt, my entire felt like it was on fire. And she was sat there laughing with her boyfriend. The beer bottles ever present in their hands. I didn't know if they were laughing at me or something on the TV.
I couldn't hear the TV at the moment, my ears were ringing. But I watched them, I watched as I lay on the floor, trying desperately to get up and walk away.
Anger burned inside me, like lava in a volcano just on the edge of bursting. There was no point of hope, no point of thinking that she would ever care for me, she wouldn't. She would never. At this point I don't think she was capable of doing so.
"Get the food ready bitch." my mother ordered distracted as she stared at the tv, taking a drag from her cigarette. Tears flowed freely from my eyes, I used to be scared at first, to cry. I used to think she would get angry, angry that I was being weak.
But no, she likes it in fact, likes it when I cry and scream, I think it satisfies her, gives her the surity of the fact that she did truly hurt me. I stood up, I had broken my ribs, I was sure of it now. the ache I felt as I breathed was all too familiar.
I started to stagger towards the kitchen but stopped abruptly when an empty bottle of beer came flying my way and hit the wall right in front of me, small shards of glass came my way as I held my hands up to protect myself.
Their laughter increased ten fold, they were playing a game, a fucking game. I don't even remember if there was a vase near me, and I don't know how the fuck I got my hands on it, or how is it that neither of them could fight back, maybe it was the amount of alcohol and drugs in their system that made them weak.
But what I do remember next, is that feeling, like waking up. and when I did, when my eyes came back into focus, I was on top of her. Covered in blood, the broken vase clenched tightly in my right hand.
I looked up and just a few feet away lay my mother's boyfriend, I hadn't bothered to learn his name. He must have passed out.
Wait, why would he be passed out? And why didn't it look like he was breathing. Was that blood on his shirt and around his neck? breathing heavy I looked down and it was then when it all hit me.
