It's Not The First Time

♈ Part Seven - Pocketknife ♈

♍-♍-♍

I crept into the house, silently treading on the dingy carpet and avoiding glass. Dad was around, probably the living room, and I was hoping for no bruises tonight.

My hands were shaky as I stepped near the living room. Quietly now, Aurora. I held my breath when the floor creaked loudly.

Ah.

"AURORA?" he slurred, and I heard a quick thump as he got to his feet.

No.

No. I refuse to walk right into another beating. The realisation of me actually loving Adrian made the refusal spark in my chest. Adrian wouldn't want me to give up as easily as I do, so I don't.

I started running up the stairs, my adrenaline pulsing rapidly through my veins making me temporarily forget my ribs.

I refuse to admit defeat.

If he wants to fight, he can catch me first.

"AURORA!" he shouted, angry that I was running from him, angry that he couldn't get his legs and arms to coordinate correctly with his drunken mind. "COME HERE!"

Getting to my room, I slammed the door shut behind me and started to drag my very heavy dresser across the floor to the entry and blocked it off. Blocking the door shut. Defending myself for once.

I winced as my blood pounded in my ears, making it hard to hear the heavy blows against the white-paint wood. Dad growled loudly, and a sharp thwack against the door made it crack and split.

The dresser was moving bit by bit, so I sat down in front of it and forced my whole weight back against it.

Dad continued the bashing of the door until he got tired and drowsy, which was around half an hour later. I'm lucky that he drank more than his usual or else I wouldn't have ever executed somthing that reckless at all.

I looked down at my wrist, inspecting the bandages that hide my cutting.

Smiling scornfully, I realised that I didn't need to cut tonight. I wouldn't need to see my blood mingling with water.

I wouldn't need to see the shine of the knife.

I wouldn't need to see it at all.

The thought didn't make me happy like I thought it would, so I grabbed the pocketknife in the bottom of my bag.

♍-♍-♍

[♈NIGHTMARE♈]

The breeze.

I could really feel the breeze as though I was really running through the park, chasing after him. I knew who 'he' was, but didn't want to acknowledge 'him' because only then I would know this was only a dream.

"Avery!"

Only he called me by my real name, Avery, instead of mom and dad who loved to call me Aurora. I turned around, the green of the grass and the brown of the trees bleeding into one splurge, and grinned cheekily at him.

"I'm winning!" I yelled childishly, provoking him to run faster. "Come and get me!"

In our youth we were allowed to be childish, so it was never his fault that when he overtook me he never stopped.

He should've stopped.

"AVERY!" Jake yelled, running off as we sprinted. We were young, we were reckless, and that cost us a life.

I saw the road before he did.

"JAKE!" I screamed, panicking.

A sickening crunch of bone grating on metal.