eyes don't lie

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My head throbs. Blood trickles down my forehead and towards my mouth, the metallic smell hitting me as it passes my nostrils. I stumble up the stairs, needing to get away from him, needing to lock myself away. The door blocks my way and I swing it open, flinching when it crashes against the wall; I look up, one of my hands holding my head where the glass had made contact with my hairline. I continue into my room, closing the door behind myself and pulling my chest of clothes behind the door, to stop him from coming in if he decides he isn't finished with me.

'Fuck me... I need to check the damage...'

Stumbling further into my room, I clasp my swivel chair, taking a seat, and rolling over to the full length mirror and the first aid kit in my drawer. Without really looking, I grab out the tweezers, butterfly stitches, and alcohol wipes, while I stare back at the girl that I see in my reflection, my shoulders slumping at the cuts and bruises.

Empty ebony eyes stare back at me, the polar opposite of what I see in the old pictures of me with my mother, or with my childhood best friend. How could it have been the actions of a single individual that could render me from a happy-go-lucky child to this battered and tortured soul I see in the mirror?

The eyes that look back are hollow, devoid of any light inside them - unlike when everything was at peace and my mother would say that the light inside rivaled the stars that Asteria placed in the sky above us every night. Sun-kissed skin now littered with bruises, cuts, and scars used to be immaculate, untouched by violent hands, unscathed. Chapped lips always in a straight line rather than the cheery smile that had graced my face every waking moment.

Blood trickles down, staining my sun-kissed skin, making me grip the tweezers and start to make quick work of the small shards that are embedded into the skin, seeing that the gash isn't deep enough to require needle and thread. I slowly pick them out, throwing them in the small trash can next to the mirror, only finding a handful and being slightly thankful that he isn't as bad as he can be after a drink or two. I grab the alcohol wipe, ripping open the wrapper, and clean the wound before wiping the streak of blood that goes down the side of my nose and to the corner of my mouth. Taking off the backing of the butterfly stitches, I place two over the cut, finding that covers it well enough to not have questions thrown at me when I go outside.

I sigh, leaning back in my seat after throwing the rubbish away. My eyes travel up to my ceiling, my lungs taking a deep breath before I force my eyes closed, needing to clear my mind and forget tonight - it's one of the easier punishments I've dealt with since my mother's death. Memories of my mother invade the forefront of my head, a cinema-like feeling as it plays in my consciousness.

The smile on my lips dances with my aching heart, the grief I have never fully experienced sitting there waiting. I force back the tears, feeling the salty water trying to fall, and swallow the lump forming in my throat, suffocating that sob. My hands clench and release as I shut down and build up that wall between me and the beast of emotion attempting to take hold of my heart. She deserves justice and when it's served is when I will allow myself the time to grieve, to feel that tidal wave of hurt and pain of losing the woman who raised me. As my eyes open, they fall upon my white ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars and moons from when I was seven years old; something I had done with my best friend before he disappeared at twelve.

I remember the conversation that caused my injuries; he is being investigated due to concerns from my mother's family. I haven't seen or spoken to any of them since her funeral - which caused their concern to spike as I'd always loved being around them.

I couldn't face them, not when he is doing things like throwing glass at me, and beating me black and blue in hidden places. How could I defend him from their questions? From their worries? They know all my mom wants for me is to be safe and healthy. I am far from that here, I don't know what would happen to me if they found out.