sunrise || m.h.

Bandages

My eyes slowly started to open from the dark void behind my eyelids. I tried to push myself up from the floor and my head was pounding. Every inch of my body ached, small cuts littering my skin. Pieces of glass stuck out from my arms, and I gently pulled them out, blood collecting in the small wounds. Ignoring the blood stained floor, I stood from the carpet and drug myself up the stairs, towards the bathroom to clean myself up. 

With just a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my mouth hung open in shock. Bruises covered my skin, purple hand shaped marks formed around my neck and my wrist, and small cuts lined every inch of my skin. Lifting my shirt, I saw purple and green swirling over my stomach and ribs, which were very visible. Dropping the gray material, I reached under the sink to find the first aid kit and turned on the sink. I grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in the cold water, rubbing it over the cuts that were still covered with blood. The white cloth quickly turned red and I wrung it out under the water, starting over again on my other arm.

Once I was cleaned up, I looked at myself again. That was the worst it had ever been. He never beat me that bad. It was always just a few bruises, maybe a little bit of blood, and a hell of a headache afterwards. Never so painful or so bloody. 

Walking into my room, I pulled out my phone and checked the time.

6:24pm.

Holy shit. I was out for a long time. That also meant he'd be home any minute. I started to panic as I thought about how much worse it'd be when he came home drunk. He was sober this time. What'll happen when the alcohol doesn't tell him when enough is enough?

My mind raced. I didn't know if I should stay and risk an even worse outcome than it was this time, or leave and risk him finding me. 

When he comes back, there was no doubt that he'd be angry. If not still angry from before, something else will have him a raging mess that will get taken out on me. I can't risk missing this chance. My one chance of surviving and being able to live my own life. 

I rushed towards my closet and grabbed a bag, throwing clothes into it. Taking as much as possible, I got my hairbrush and shoved that in too, along with my notebook, phone and other necessities. I go to a piggy bank I've had since I was a baby and quickly open it, taking all of its contents and stuffing it into the bag. Throwing it over my shoulder, I all but ran downstairs and towards the door. Throwing it open, I rushed outside, onto the dead and yellow grass. I turned to look back at the house. 

This is my last chance to turn back. My last chance to give into my fear of being found and staying in a place that's worse than hell itself.

Without a second thought, I turned my back to the house and walked down the sidewalk, with no direction on where to go.