He shakes visibly, fear rolling off of him. "I..I..I didn't do shit!!" He says.
I roar with laughter and nearly fall over backwards.
"Oh, so you're constipated?!"
Lena is just a constantly bloated buffoon who got kidnapped by some mafia dude.
"Lena! You stupid girl! What the fuck did you think you were doing, huh? You think you can run away from this?!" her hands tighten on my wrists as she spits insults at my face.
"You bitch! You can't do what I tell you! You fucking decide to have a seizure when I put 60 bags of cocaine in your body like you want to get me found out! Why the fuck did I have you?!You little piece of shit you ruined my life. Your father left me because you wouldn't stop crying!"
She keeps screaming in my face her veins bulging. At this point I don't know what's true.
How could I have been so foolish, I didn't wear a long sleeved hoodie. It's a hundred degrees out but I shouldn't have let her see my wrists.
I cut them open last month, I can't live like this but I have to go forward with my life. She slaps me hard, causing me to fall backwards onto the coffee table.
The rage in her eyes growing. I feel so much pain but this time I don't cry just let her violate my human rights like she always does.
She kicks me repeatedly wherever she wants. The pain burns so much I can hardly breathe. One swift punch in my face should knock me out but it doesn't. Why the fuck don't I just die!
She grabs my collar and spits in my face making her exit, slamming the door. That's when I break down. I hold onto my sides, I think I have a broken rib. Shit, I can't go to the hospital they'll ask too many questions.
I walk to the mirror in the bathroom already shattered from the last beating I took. Everywhere I look painful memories come rushing back. This house is so toxic.
I'm not shocked with the way I look. Swollen eye, cuts around my jawline, open lip pulsating with fast flowing blood. I remove my hoodie to reveal massive blue bruises everywhere. A deep grotesque welt around my rib cage.
Tears fall quickly as the pain intensifies, I need to clean up before she comes back. Don't want to get another beating. By the time she comes back she'll be too drunk to remember my name.
I make my way to the epicenter of this hell hole to start cleaning up. I have 5hours to do this place up properly.
The scars on my wrists remind me of that day, the scars remind me of her and my pathetic life. I see them when i'm bathing, when I look in the mirror sleeveless or when we're in dealing class discussing how to make the perfect drug mule.
Dear mom, if only I had known you was prepping me for criminal school.
Fucking bitch.
Now I can't think straight.
Maybe our little shopping thing can do me a favor.
later
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