This World Is The Same, But Mine Isn't

Two

"Go clean up, you piece of shit!" She orders as she kicks me one last time. The tears from my eyes create a puddle on the hardwood floor. "Now!" She yells again.

"Yes.. ma'am..." My breathing is harsh and I groan trying to get to my feet. Barely making it to my feet, she grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me up, dragging me to my room.

"Don't you dare ever disrespect me again. Do you understand?" She waits for a reply. I try to answer her, but my ribs hurt and I have the biggest migraine imaginable. "Do you understand?!" She yells this time. I nod my head and squeeze my eyes shut. She lets go of me and leaves my room, slamming the door shut.

I lay on my bedroom floor, silently weeping. I try to call upon the angel of death, if there is one. I have no more tears to shed, so I try to pick myself up. My ribs ache and my back is numb and swollen. It's been a month since she's done something like that.

I use my bed for support and make my way to the restroom. Small and steady steps, I reach for the door handle and I walk in. I reach for a rag from under the sink and dampen it with cold water. I set it down and take off my shirt, examining the marks from her belt.

I hear the front door open. "Dad's home..." I whisper to myself. I start looking at the forming bruises on my chest and my ribs.

"... Thing! Do something... Him!" I pick up bits and pieces of my dad's conversation with my sad excuse of a step mother. It's mostly just her yelling.

I sigh and try to wrap myself in a brace. I'm pretty sure I have a broken rib or two and I know nobody is going to take me to a hospital.

I hear a small knock on the bathroom door and reach for the door handle, taking a deep breath before I open it.

"Oh. Hey, dad..." I whisper. I really don't want to talk to anyone at the moment.

"Are you okay?" He begins questioning and examining my marks. "Do you need to go to the hosp-" I interrupt him, knowing where this is going.

"No. I'll be fine. I should heal in a couple weeks." I slowly put my shirt back on. My body aches and shakes. As I'm about to put my head through my shirt, he helps me put it on. He slowly pulls down my shirt and helps me slip my arms through.

"Okay... I'm worried about you, you know that?" He asks. His voice is sad and sympathetic. I nod my head because I know. "I think I'll divorce her. We're falling apart and... She just doesn't belong here," he whispers.

I shake my head, "Dad, if you don't want to, you don't have to. I'll be fine," he shakes his head as well.

"We both know this isn't okay. We're not near normal anymore. This will never be okay..." He whispers. His eyes begin to tear up.

"Dad... You know once you divorce, you can't remarry. It's against the law," I know he knows damn well, but I don't want him to be heartbroken and alone.

"I can't keep someone in the house who abuses you. Especially when you're only 3 minutes late. That's ridiculous," he says as I sit on the edge of the tub.

I hear footsteps coming from across the house and he changes the subject making it seem like I was being lectured like the damn beast wanted.

"Just... Stop coming home late and lying about it. You know she hates it. Get your act together, son." He says loud enough for her to hear. He gives me a quick and gentle hug and leaves.

"Why do you treat him with such respect?!" She slaps him. I didn't see it, but I heard it from the kitchen. "Discipline him for Christ's sake!" She stomps off to her room. Dad let's out a exhausted sigh and begins heading down the hall my room is in.

My parents don't sleep in the same bed, let alone the same room. He goes into his room which is next to mine and closes his door.

Every day, this is a routine. He comes home, talks to me, gets hit, goes to his room and turns on his tv playing a movie loud enough for him to cry. He thinks no one notices, but I do.

I go into my room and close the door, turning off the light as well. I cry myself​ to sleep wishing for a different story.

***

I wake up the next morning to my alarm and let out a sigh.

"Why?" I push off my blankets and quickly grab them again cause its cold. I sit up and rub my eyes. "Why can't I just die in my sleep?..."

"Winter, you better be out of bed!" My step mother yells through my door. I softly sigh.

"I am." I reply. I push off my blankets again and get up and stretch. I walk to my closet doing the same thing I do everyday. There's not much I can do, really.

***

I make it to school a couple seconds before the bell rings.

"Almost late again, fag?" John says walking into his class.

"At least my name isn't John." I yell back and walk to my class filled with anger.

"What was that, you piece of shit?!" He yells and I can feel his enormous footsteps behind me.

"Did I stutter?! And easy with that walking. You'll cause an earthquake, fatass." He pulls my backpack ​and shoves me against the unused lockers.

"Say that again, asshole!" He spits in my face.

"You're a piece of shit fatass named John. Now go to class. You don't want to be stupid the rest of your pathetic life." I knee him hard in his crotch and he let's go of me and bends over covering himself. I take my knee again and smash his face against it. "How's that for a Friday?"

I walk away and feel quite accomplished, but....

*****
Have a cliffhanger! 👉😂👉