A Second Chance

Chapter 1 "Someone"

TW; Abuse, Potentially depressing content.

I don't feel safe.

Not in my home, not in my room, and not here in my bed with the covers pulled over me. No matter how still I lay, or how long I keep my eyes shut, He's still there. He still continues to exist after what he did. What did he do, you ask?

Its simple.

First, he grabbed my hair and yanked me up. Than he balled his hands into fists. Tainting my flushed pale skin to a screaming black and blue. With dots of purple lining my arms, and the corner of my lips. And than he left. After leaving me crumpled on the floor, like a pile of bones. My body would ache consistently for a while. Eventually, when I could move without crying, I could bring myself up to my bed and hide under the covers. Hide from the tears, the pain, him, from my little sister. Who didn't see what happened. All she saw was my shivering frame in the darkness.

But what did that matter?

I could do nothing. No one would help me. I find my thin fingers grabbing onto the blanket tightly. Begging, pleading for someone. Someone who will reach out their arms and drag me out of this bed. Across the earth. Down into the ocean where I can finally die. With this hopeful thought, I feel myself slipping away. Sleep is the one escape beside death that I long for. So I let myself be taken away from this and into a comatose state, sadly  temporary.

   Someone. Please. I beg for food, he does not give in. I can feel my ribs press against my skin. Hunger consumes me. Please. Please.

My eyes shoot open. I stare into darkness, and upon throwing my blanket onto the floor I find myself greeted to silence. Not the usual voice of my Father, telling me to wake up. No tv blaring the latest game. Not my sisters small voice. Asking for me to make breakfast. My eyes drift toward the alarm clock. 9:57am. Beside it, a note.

Sorry. Love, dad.

Asshole. I reach out, crumpling the note in my hands and angrily tossing it across the room. I guess this is his apology. Letting me stay home. My hands begin to shake. As if that was enough to make up for all the other times, too. I run my hands through my brown hair. I suppose I could use this time to my benefit. Cleaning would do some good, working on something. My body longs to go back to sleep- But I force it to rise. To move toward the door.

I have to tell someone... but tomorrow. Tomorrow I will let someone know. Before it gets worse. Before he finally kills me, and than my sister.