Bruises

tŵ0

As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn't leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I'd still be in prison.

•nelson mandela•

The apartment I had moved into didn't have a proper bathroom, just a toilet, sink and shower.

Slipping under the bedsheets, the heavy doona pushed against my bruises with the hard satin edges, making my eyes water. I tucked my body up, into a small ball, hoping the tonight maybe the nightmares wouldn't be there.

But I was a hopeless girl, stuck with memories of him and his fists, his cold heartless hands and the scalding water. I couldn't ever forget him, an a small, minuscule part of me couldn't ever stop loving him, as my brother.

Despite leaving home, leaving the place I grew up in and despite leaving the place that killed me inside, all the things that crushed me tagged along in my suitcase. They followed me, and I feared that I would never truly be left alone, never truly have a chance to live a life that could be somewhat carefree.

I feared it, but I knew it would be true, I thought, slowly beginning to drift away into a probably troubled sleep.

My eyes closed, my eyelashes resting across my bruised and burned cheeks.

•

In the morning, after all the nightmares, I got out of bed onto bruised feet and went into the bathroom. My brain was automatically thinking about pain, about being pushed against scalding taps and thrown against tiled walls.

I couldn't help it, but my mind was so used to it; it had been happening for two years, and it was as if my brain had been rewired to expect it.

I expected it too, down in my heart.

I skipped from foot to foot, staring at the toilet. Slowly, I sat down and did my business, quickly standing and slamming the lid shut, flushing. I bit my lip, washed my hands, and got out of there as fast as I could.

I wouldn't have got this apartment if it had a bathtub, because the bathtub was always the worst.

He always managed to be able shove my curled ip body underneath the tap, managed to press my limbs into a shape so the scalding water touched everywhere, burned everywhere.

The next thing I did on the first day away from home, was eat. I ate quickly, trying to keep my mind away from the fact that I would normally be dragged by my hair back into the bathtub.

I got dressed, gingery putting clothes over my bruises and once again covering them and the burns up, covering up the scars.

But once again, I couldn't cover up the lost and broken look in my eyes. I couldn't shine a light on them and make them regain their old sparkle, the sparkle that hasn't been there for two years or more.

I shouldered a light but warm jacket and headed outside, hopefully leaving my demons cowering in the bathroom.

But they wouldn't be cowering; they'd be standing, strong and proud, with an evil grin on their twisted faces, sucking my energy and hope.

_

So, whoever guessed brother is correct! What will she do next? Comment your answers below!

Be ready for the next chapter, munchkins,

_wolfbell