What did I do wrong?

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A/N: Alright, I'm warning you guys now, this chapter gets a little intense. We're dipping into Little Toy Guns territory and there are mentions of abuse. Just forewarning.

And I apologize in advance. This chapter was designed to break your heart. :(


Violet's Pov:

It's been two weeks. Two weeks which seem like the happiest I've ever been. All to be ruined by one moment. I don't even understand what I've done wrong! I never do, but it always comes back at me. It's always my fault.

The coffee table has been flipped over and a lamp now resides on the ground. Glass is shattered all over the floor in the living room. Drops of blood can also be found amongst the jagged shards. It sticks out like the flame of a fire in darkness, the bright red against the light coloring of the wooden floorboards. A trail of droplets leads all the way to my bedroom door. These are all things that can be cleaned up and thrown away before my mom gets home. But I can't tell her. I can never tell her or everything will just be brought down on me again. This will all be over and everything will disappear like it never happened. Washed away like writing in the sand as waves crash over the shoreline. Words that disappear without a trace.

But there are some words that never leave. Words that are embedded in my head, not a single one missed. Things that would always be remembered because not only were they inserted into my mind, but now they've been branded into my skin. The tears in my eyes slowly fall down the sides of my face much like the blood that slides down my right arm as I sit inside my closet with my back up against the wall. It's a bit dark because the doors are partially closed, but there's light that breaks through the gaps that allow me to stare at the two long gashes that run down my upper forearm.

My hands are stained in a light red color from holding the wound down to stop the trickle of blood. It's mostly stopped now, but I don't really care. It doesn't even hurt much. How can it, when the pain I feel inside is so much worse? There's also a numbing pain in my right side. I'll probably have a few bruises that'll make an appearance by tomorrow. But I can't think about that when words like regret, liability, and mistake constantly run through my mind.

This only makes me cry harder as I bury my face in my hands. I'm trying not to make any noise because if my dad hears me he'll start yelling again. Probably telling me to "shut the fuck up", or to "get over it". I don't even care if he hits me. It's not the physical blows that hurt, it's the berating. The words always hurt more than a punch to the chest, or a kick to the side, or the stinging sensation in my arm. No matter how long they stay away they always reappear sooner or later. Lurking in the back of my mind, waiting for a chance to resurface and break me down from the inside out.

Through blurred eyes, I can see through the opening of the door and look across the floor to see my black and white notebook a few feet away. It's not even worth it, I couldn't write anything down even if I wanted to. Nothing would come because right now I just feel broken. It's not worth it to write. It's not worth it to walk. All I can do is sit here and wait for everything to become numb until I can no longer feel any emotion because everything is so fucked up. But it's fine, the words will come later. They always do.

My knees are pressed against my chest with my arms wrapped around them and I bury my face in them. I just wish I knew what I did wrong.

I literally walked through the door after school and everything just went downhill the moment a stepped into the house. My dad started yelling at me after he asked me something about us not having any more beer in the fridge, but I couldn't respond. I always turn completely mute whenever he's in the room, which he assumes I do by choice so it only angers him.

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