Beautifully Broken

- 5 -

What the hell did I do?

I stare at my mother's unconscious place on the ground. I don't feel bad, but a feeling of strong disappointment. In her - in my life and what its come to.

What am I going to do?

I scramble through the drawers in the bathroom trying to find something strong enough to wrap up my leg.

Duct tape- bingo

I wrap it tight around my thigh with the remainder gauges from the first aid between it. I need to get out of the house before she wakes up.

If she wakes up.

I slowly raise to my feet, an agonizing ache shooting through my thigh. It's so bad I start to shutter with exhaustion. Only wanting to drop back on the ground and sleep. I know I can't. I know I have to leave. 

I limp my way to the stairs, using my hands and good knee to crawl up them.

It's crazy how many times I dreamt of this moment. I've cried myself to sleep justing wanting a chance. Praying to a God I don't believe in, to help. Now that it's here, I feel nothing.

Only pain, but I think that's the stab wound in my leg.

Opening the door to my room, I pick up one of the loose planks. Under it lies two thousand three hundred and fifty-eight dollars. Between bills and food for the past six years, this is all the money I have saved up.

I grab it quickly putting it in a small bag as well as some clothes. I then limp back to the door. Memories flood my mind.

This room was once princess-themed, I had a pretty pink bunk bed with the Disney princesses on a tent above. Looking back over the room, the once blush pink walls were badly covered in gray paint.

My mother was going to sell the house to pay for the medical bills. She started repainting rooms and fixing small patches.

Not too long after the fatal accident she was introduced to heroin and whiskey. The small projects were never finished and the house was never sold. Scanning back over the room I see my dirty mattress that rested on the floor. I've slept on that for eleven years, I still see the small spots of blood from the late-night beatings. 

It was tear-stained so bad, that if I hadn't known its original color, I would have thought it was supposed to be that speckled gray color.

Making my way back down the stairs, I grab my keys and head out. I don't take a last look at my mother. I look at her body as an obstacle I've overcome. I'm still not relieved, not yet.

I leave the front door open, hoping maybe a fly will come in and lay eggs on her.

She hates flys - and I hate her

Once I'm in the car, I pull out of the driveway. Raking my brain for a place I can go. I have limited money, I don't have many friends, No family. Where the fuck do I go?

I take a quick glance at the time: 4:03 a.m.

It seemed as if I had been struggling for hours. In reality, it's only taken a few moments to change the course of my life- Deja vu.

POP

The car jerks forward coming to a complete stop.

"No, no, no," I mutter to myself, trying to turn the key but nothing happens, "Please, no."

The one time I think I'm going to make it. This shit happens. I swear I'm destined for failure. I'm on the side of a dark road and I can't see the street signs because the closest road light has been shot out.