Killings Of Midnight |✔️|

Chapter 12 (Edited)

       Damaria sat on the toilet with the cover down, her knees were pulled up to her chest and she was crying softly. She had asked the teacher if she could go to the bathroom and the teacher had blindly agreed because she was busy helping another kid. Damaria's hands were shaking, slight bruises covered her arms and the memory of yesterday came back.

     Lance had come home late from school and lately he wasn't talking to her. Or even looking at her. She tried to understand why? But every time she'd try to speak with him, he'd leave. But yesterday her father had caught her and thrown her into the dark basement. She had banged against the wall with every object she could find in the dark. Yet the door wouldn't budge and neither would her father. She knew he was intoxicated again, but she was only nine and had no idea what to do.

     She was afraid to go home and she was afraid to stay at school. She was terrified of admitting the truth; letting people know her own family didn't love her. Her small innocent heart and mind were suffering and there was nothing that could be done.

      She could hear girls giggling before the school bell rang signally the end. She knew she had to get out before the other kids and teachers came in to the bathroom. She took a deep breath and grabbed her backpack before peeking out from under the stall. Luck wasn't on her side, by the sinks stood Ashlyn the meanest girl in class. She would always make fun of Damaria and taunt her. Damaria had nightmares that Ashlyn would know the truth about her parents. She didn't want to be made fun of even more. All she wanted to do was hurt Ashlyn so she would know how it feels.

     Ashlyn was laughing and joking around with her friends and she realized that someone's head was sticking out from underneath the stalls. She turned around a scary grin on her face. Walking towards the bathroom she kicked Damaria cheek. Damaria gasped as the pain flowed through her face. She moved back quickly and sat back in the toilet. But Ashlyn wasn't done. Ashlyn and her friends crawled underneath the stall and stood in front of Damaria.

     "Oh my god, you're such a loser. You eat in the bathroom." Ashlyn laughed. "And you smell really bad." Ashlyn giggled. Her friends giggled with her.

      Damaria hated them but she didn't know what to do. She looked around the stall hoping her mom would come back as save her. But nothing like that ever happens. Then she saw the opening in the next stall. All she and to do was crawl under and she could get away. Damaria stood up to move but Ashlyn pushed her back. She slipped, hitting her back on the wall. Her bag fell inside. Everything became blurry for a moment before Ashlyn grabbed Damaria oversized shirt and her and her friends took their time laughing and ripping it in half.

     Damaria sat their crying, long after the girls had left. She was tired and her body hurt all over. She kept crying and sniffling until the halls were empty.

      When she thought it was safe enough. She grabbed he bag and started walking home. It was getting dark and the slight chill in the air was cooling Damaria's hot face.

      She tried to walk slower so she would hurt less and so she didn't reach home so soon. She decided she'd stop at the park. But as she got near it, she changed her mind. The park was dark and scary. She wasn't ready to go back alone and she wasn't ready to go without her mum.

      When Damaria arrived home. She peeked through the window to see if her father was drunk or not. When she didn't see him. She ran to the back of the house and climbed the ten foot wall to her bedroom window. She had gotten used to the climb after doing it several times. But today her hands were shaking and she was afraid she'd slip.

      When she reached the her bedroom she through her bag on the floor and hid under the covers. There were moments of silence before all became chaos, just with the sound of  His voice.

      "Damaria Robinson answer me!" Her father's voice boomed around the house.

      Damaria stayed quiet. She didn't want to see him. He was probably going to make fun of her or throw something and then she'd have to clean it. Or ask her to make him dinner. Damaria looked at her arms, cuts and burns ran up and around. They were every where on her arms.

     "Damaria I am speaking to you!" Damaria made a quick decision and ran into her bathroom. She locked the door and kept the light off. Nightmares flashed through her mind of when she was young. Her father throwing her into a dark basement or cellar. The things she could see in the dark. The ones that haunted her nightmares for years.

      Damaria's father's voice came closer. Her heartbeat quickened and adrenaline pumped through her veins. She was terrified. With shaking hands she pulled the cupboard door open and squeezed inside. The pipes prodding into her back and her neck hurting from the sore angle.

     She heard the door open to her bedroom. She didn't move. She heard him moving around, destroying things to find her.  Then she heard the footsteps near her door. They were loud but not louder than the sound of Damaria's beating heart, thudding in her eardrums.

     The door was broken down, it crashed into the cupboards; blocking her escape. Damaria didn't know what to do. She was sure now that she wouldn't be able to get out. The idea was alarming but also calming; she wouldn't have to face her father.

      Seconds passed by and she could still hear her father breaking objects in her room. Then it became silent. There were no more crashed or shatters, just a gentle but deadly silence. Slowly she pushed open the cupboard doors and squeezed out. She looked around the bathroom but no one was there. Then she peeked into her room; empty. There was no one there. She stepped out and looked around, everything was shattered or ripped. By her bedside the photograph of her mother was gone.

      It clicked; her father found the photograph. Her fears were coming to life. He was going to burn it, he'd always threatened too. Without thinking she raced down the stairs to see him standing above the fireplace; watching the photograph burn. The flames flickered in the darkness of the room and Damaria could only make out her father's face in the dark; one with a twisted grin upon it.                       

      He turned to her, she was frozen in place. She couldn't understand what just happened. He motioned her closer and she hesitated; until his smile fell and his face turned to one of anger. She slowly walked forward until she was right in front of him and beside the fireplace. He bent down and whispered in her ear. "She's not you real mother. Your real mother never loved you and neither did she." He pointed a finger at the fireplace, where Willa's picture was burning.

     Damaria stumbled and her father shoved her hard into the fireplace. She fell on her hands right in front of the fireplace. The soot and ashes were all over her face and hands and her nose could feel the heat of the fire. The flames reflected in her dark eyes and the sound of her father's laughter rang throughout the house.