Misanthrope

2

TW

The feeling of blood dripping from a wound I didn't know I had startled me the next morning when I went to go look in the mirror.

I groggily walk from my bed to my bathroom and gasp when I look in the mirror, I had completely forgotten about what happened the night before.

I have a purple bruise on my cheek bone and red marks all over my neck. I also have a busted lip which is swollen, crimson liquid dripping from the small wound. I lift up my t-shirt and see that I have purple bruises all over my stomach and back.

I shed a single tear and quickly wipe it away. I hate that he has made me like this. He has hurt me so much that I have become almost numb.

I rake my hands through my hair a few times, not having the energy to brush it properly. Glancing down at the sink, I see my razor.

I need a release, I need to feel something. I pick up the razor and bring the blade to my wrist. I cut deep but not deep enough to land me in a hospital bed.

Been there done that.

As the blade glides across my skin I breathe out at the tingling stinging feeling. I look down and see red. I feel a wave of satisfaction wash over me and I close my eyes to savor the moment.

After a few minutes I clean the mess and throw on some clothes.

I need to draw the least amount of attention to myself possible. I wear a black turtle neck to cover my neck and arms, it's become easily my most used piece of clothing because of the bastard downstairs and my stupid decisions. I pair it with a tattered denim jacket and a plaid skirt.

The skirt covers most of my thighs so my scars aren't visible. I wear a pair of fishnets and combat boots.

I look at my face. There is no way any amount of makeup will be able to cover the bruise. I apply some concealer to at least make it less noticeable, and decided that was all the effort I was going to put in to my appearance today.

When I go downstairs my dad is passed out on the couch. He stirs a bit so I quickly grab my bag and get the fuck out of there. I don't eat breakfast anyway.

My phone buzzes, it's a message from Chase.

Shithead: can you bring me to school today?

Me: hmm idk I'll think about it

Shithead: i hate you

Me: love you too, i'm omw

Shithead: thank u bae

Chase and I have a very close relationship, a lot of people think we are a couple but we are strictly platonic.

I light a cig and pull out of my driveway. Soon enough I'm pulling into Chase's.

"He came home early?" Chase observes as he gets into my car.

"He thought I was out boning someone" I chuckle humorlessly.

"Alex, you need to tell somebody that can help, like the police-" Chase starts but I quickly cut him off.

"And get sent to a shitty foster home where I will be abused even more or moved away from you, I think the fuck not"

He sighs and shakes his head.

"Besides, when he isn't around, which is most of the time, nothing bad happens" I try to negotiate.

"That doesn't make it any better, A" He replies.

"Oh well, in another year I'm moving the fuck out and never looking back" I smile at the thought of finally being away from him.