Passion

Chapter 7

A/N
There is hinting of abuse in this chapter, so be prepared for that. It's not descriptive, so it shouldn't be awful, but I'm just leaving this here just in case.

        Carmella and I slowed as we neared the house. Neither of us wanted to go in. Neither of us wanted to face him.

        "Go to Michael's house tonight," I whispered, forcing my voice to stay steady, emotionless. "I'll take care of this."

        She frowned, eyeing me in concern. "But that's not--"

        "I'll be fine," I interjected, masking the truth with a smile. She looked at me, her face bathed in worry. Nevertheless, she nodded, telling me to text her if anything happens. Once I agreed, she turned and snuck away to her boyfriend's house, leaving me alone.

        I walked toward the door, standing in front of it for a second before turning the handle, hearing the door creak loudly as I opened it. The house was dark, meaning he either fell back asleep (which was highly unlikely) or he didn't bother turning on the lights, which was usually the case when he had a killer hangover, which he usually solved by drinking more to forget the pain. I slipped past the door, closing and locking it before turning around. Andy was sitting right there on the couch, staring at me with dark, glassy eyes, whiskey glass in his hand.

        He was pissed. I took in a shaky breath, not daring to speak.

        I found myself praying that I'll pass out before too long this time.

~~

        I had a strange dream.

        It wasn't really a dream, nor was it a nightmare. It was nothing. I knew that, if there was anything to see, I'd be able to see it, but there was nothing. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. It was just darkness, emptiness, everywhere I went.

        Then I woke up.

        I didn't open my eyes for a while; I couldn't find the energy or motivation to do so. When I did, however, my first instinct was to check the clock next to my bed. I turned my body so that I'd be resting on my elbow, wincing at the pain the movement caused. I wondered what the hell happened to make my everything hurt so much, so I fought tooth and nail with the pain and trudged over to the bathroom mirror, never actually checking the time.

        I was thankful my door was opened already, or I probably just wouldn't have even bothered finding out what was wrong.

        I definitely didn't expect what I saw when I lazily slipped off my skating shirt, which I found was ripped and had strange stains in certain places.

        Gashes and bruises riddled my torso, a particularly deep gash on my left shoulder somehow bearing bits of glass sticking out of the cut. Slowly, everything started coming back to me, and I sighed.

         The gods didn't answer my prayers this time, sadly.

         I grabbed a pair of tweezers I remember asking Carma to buy for this specific reason, trying to steady my hand as I brought it to the glass glinting in my shoulder. I hated doing this, but it was better than having Carma do it. Besides, it started hurting a little less once I knew what I was doing. Well, I didn't know what I was doing, to be fair, but I figured the less it hurt the better the technique was. I winced as I carefully pulled a shard out of the cut, dropping it into the trash can nearby.

        Once all the shards were out, I cleaned the deeper cuts with a damp cloth, reading somewhere online that antiseptics damaged skin or something like that. I liked using cloth way more than antiseptics, anyway. It didn't sting as much. I refrained from buying gauze, it seemed unnecessary to me when these things happen so often; it'd be a waste of money.

        As I was reaching for my shirt to assess the damage, I spotted a few cuts on my arms that probably wouldn't even scar, but were bleeding nonetheless. I groaned, reaching for the cloth that I just put away.

~~

        I snuck back into my room after treating my wounds to the best of my ability, noting the loud snores coming from the other side of the small house. Carma probably texted me, I should tell her she's in the clear to come home. I picked up my phone, hastily typing in the password and opening our conversation.

4:56
A:
         Hey, just wanted to say it's all good now. Dad's sleeping, if you stay quiet I think you'll be fine. Careful though; I think Mom's home. You know how light of a sleeper she is.

4:56
C:
         Alright, will do. You good?

         I didn't answer her.

         I scrolled through pinterest for a few minutes before deciding to go to bed. I didn't bother changing from my torn and bloodied clothes, instead creeping under the covers and closing my eyes.

...

        Goddammit, brain. Why must you hate me. Just let me sleep.

        This is what I get for passing out.

~~

         Well. The sun was rising, and it would be a beautiful day if I had gotten any sleep. I groaned loudly and hoisted myself out of bed, knowing Carma would wake me up any second now either way. Might as well be up.

        I walked stiffly over to my closet, my everything even more sore than when I woke up. Grabbing my faded uniform, I couldn't help but wonder what the future had in store for me, as you do.

         The thing with me is that I get scared. I missed out on a lot of things that many people did during their lifetime because I was too afraid of the consequences that may follow. I'm no daredevil, I don't take risks. Especially when it comes to my parents wishes. They don't want me to compete, and I'm afraid that I may lose them if I fight them on it, since I'm already on such thin ice. For some reason, figure skating really gets on my dad's nerves. He doesn't mind any other sport, hell I could play rugbee and he'd say "knock 'em dead".

        I feel like it would be impossible to choose between my passion for skating and the drunkard and stranger, however odd that may seem to a regular person.

        And I don't even know why it seems like such a difficult decision.

        I didn't even notice I was ready and sitting on the couch until I heard my sister's voice urging me out the door.

        Time for the second day of hell.

A/N

        Welp. It took me forever to update, but I did it. It's short, I know, but I had to re-write the whole chapter because what I was previously trying to do was causing me some major writers block. Buuuuut I'm done now. Sorry for making you guys wait so long for such a short chapter, I'll try to make it up to you somehow. I think that's all for this one.

        By the way, my parents aren't actually like this. They are good people who work hard to take care of my sister and I. I don't think I mentioned that before even though I did say this was a rant book, so yeah. How are you guys, by the way? If you're in school, I'm not about to ask how it is because we all know school is hell. But if you're not in school, how's the big kid life doin? Bye frienderinos!!