𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 & 𝓬𝓲𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓼 • 𝓭.𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓷 | ✓ |

15. 𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓸𝓻 𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

                                   |15|
        "bleeding in the palm of your hand."
             ||WINNER; CONAN GRAY||
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
my entire body and breathing came to a halt as soon as i saw him standing there.

he was huffing, dirty, and looked as if he were going to blow up in flames.

i dropped the bag out of fright and just stared at him in the eyes as he stood there, menacingly.

we held eye contact as i tried to determine what my next move was going to be; fight, flight, or do absolutely nothing.

"what the hell are you doing back here?!?" he screamed, taking a step closer to me.

i took a deep breath and a step back. our eye contact didn't break, but i couldn't manage to get a response out.

the room was so silent, you could hear the wood creak at each footstep he made toward me and each footstep i took back.

"answer me, bitch!" he yelled.

i could feel the color fade from my face and the tears well up in my eyes.

i continued to step away from him as he inches closer toward me.

after a minute, i felt my head gently tap against the wall behind me.

there was no more steps back i could take.

i broke eye contact for a second and looked at the open bedroom door. i wanted to dart out of that room. leave and never return, but i couldn't.

i'm not sure why. it felt like my limbs locked up out of fear and i was just unable to remove myself from the situation.

i slowly began to look back at him and that when he charged at me.

he held the bottle up as if he were going to hit me with it and ran directly at me.

my limbs locked up.

my eyes widened.

the only thing i could possibly do is fall.

and that's what i did.

i let my body become limp and dropped to the floor. my dad swung the bottle into the space where my head was moment ago and the bottle smashed into the wall.

small pieces of glass fell onto the top of my hand that covered my head, creating small deep cuts in my hands.

"oh you little shit!"

i made an attempt to crawl away but i was shot down by the familiar chest pain. this was getting old and definitely was not the time.

fear overran my entire body and my breathing was only getting heavier.

i looked up to see the unpleasant expression on my father's face who was standing directly over me.

i felt a blow being taken to my ribcage and i collapsed onto the floor. it felt like my ribs cracked from his kick, but i wasn't sure of anything now. i wasn't even sure if i'd make it out alive.

i laid on the ground with a grimace on my face. i cradled my aching ribs as my dad spoke again.

"you're so pathetic, y'know that?"

i tried to drown out his voice, but i didn't have to try too much because the pain and fear were already helping.

a large hand then gripped onto the front of my dress and yanked me up to my feet, making our faces directly in front of each other, and only just inches apart. tears silently streamed down my cheeks as i braced myself for what was potentially yet to come.

"you're so damn pathetic." he spat, hurling my body across the room and into a separate wall.

my body scraped across the glass covered floor before slamming into the wall. my vision grew blurry and i almost fell like throwing up at the sight of blood pouring from my skin. the glass on the floor had scraped my exposed skin, leaving deep cuts.

i laid there, staring up at him with my eyes as wide as they would go. the look on his face seemed as if he was never going to stop. it seemed like he was going to kill me.

"look at this mess you caused!"

i could barely piece together what he said as he continued to yell at my limp body.

after what seemed like hours, he stumbled out of the bedroom and back to the living room.

i tried regulating my breathing at the belief i was safe now, but i really wasn't. i was still in this house of horrors, thinking of what to do. i was even surprised he had left the room.

i decided thoroughly inspect my injuries. my head pounded from hitting the wall, my ribs ached from the kicked, and the numerous cuts burnt like hell. there was one main one on my bicep of my right arm, which was very wide and leaking blood fast. not to mention my chest, which felt like it was on fire.

i came to the realization that i couldn't just lay here. i needed help, and i wouldn't get it from sulking in my own blood.

as soon as the house was silent, i mustered up all my strength to crawl to the home phone in his bedroom.

slowly but surely i inched closer to his bedroom with a number to call in mind.

i got a glimpse of the living room, and spotted my dad passed out on the couch, yet again.

i entered the bedroom and made my way over to the makeshift nightstand. i grabbed onto the rotting wooden tabletop and pulled myself up to where i could reach the phone.

i picked it off and began to punch in numbers. the phone began to ring for a moment until i heard someone pick up.

"curtis household. this is sodapop."