I'm Not Broken - TH

•3•

I wait impatiently at my locker for Chloe, trying to come up with a plan. I can't murder her dad, then she will know who I am. I can't interfere because it'll just make it worse on her later. She can't come stay with me because she can't know where Haz and I are living now, besides that'd probably end in her dad getting angry too. There's no solution to this. There's no way around her crazy dad. Unless..
I think to the pistol in my car. If she did it, I would be in the clear. She'd have no clue who I am or what I do. I could help her cover up any trace of the kill and keep her safe. No one would have to know..
I can't do that to her. She's not a killer. She's not like me.
"Hello? Tom?"
I snap out of my thoughts, turning to the girl standing in front of me.
"Sorry." I mumble.
"Are you okay?" She asks.
"No. I don't want you to go home." I state.
"I have a plan." She starts, stuffing a few things into her locker and closing it. "I'm going to tell him that my mum left to stay at a friends house for a few days, and that she will be back soon. He's going to be mad she's gone without telling him but not nearly as mad as he'd be if he knew she was gone for good. Then I'll make him a drink and hope for the best."
I hate this. I hate that I have the ability to protect her but I can't. I could have that man dead in five seconds. I could fix her every problem if I didn't have to worry about the repercussions. And no, I'm not talking about prison. That's the least of my worries.
I'm talking about the mob.
"Need a ride?" I ask her.
"Don't you have your super secret meeting to attend?" She giggles.
How can she laugh at a time like this? How does she stay so positive?
"I told you they're not super secret meetings, it's just my dads colleagues who want to train me." I explain.
"And what does your dad do exactly?" She asks.
"Boring stuff." I shrug and she nods.
"Super secret stuff." She teases, and walks past me, waving goodbye.

•Chloes pov•
I walk home slowly once again, wanting to kill some time. This will work. He'll be mad but not mad enough to hurt me. I know what sets him off, and what he can handle. If he found out that mum left for good, that would set him off almost as bad as David's death did.
I walk into the house, seeing my dad standing in the middle of the room, a drink in his hand. He already looks pissed.. great. I was hoping he'd be somewhat okay to start.
"Come in here. Now." He says in a tone that makes my hands shake. Here we go..
I walk into the living room, standing in front of him and trying with everything in me to not show my fear. Seeing fear in people is what he thrives off of. I won't give him that.
"Yes?" I ask.
"Where is your mother?" He questions.
I take a deep breath. My lie has to be perfect, or he will know. 
"She called and let me know she's staying with her friend for a few nights." I lie.
"At a friends?" He laughs lightly, shaking his head at me.
He now starts pacing the room, and I feel my heart beat quicken. Why is he acting weird?
"Yes. She said she'd be back in a few days." I inform him.
"Then what is this?"
He pulls a crumpled up piece of paper out from his pocket, holding it up for me to see. The letter.. he went in my room. He found it.
"I- I-"
"Not only did you keep this from me, you lied about it? I gave you a chance to come clean and you lied." He scolds.
"I'm very sorry.. I just didn't want to upset you." I try.
"You are such a waste." He spits, grabbing me by a chunk of my hair and dragging me across the room to the wall. I groan from the pain of my hair literally being torn out of my head. He slams me up against the wall, and slaps my face harder than he ever has before. The stinging pain makes me cry out, the ringing in my ears slowly settling after the slap. I clutch my cheek, trying to sooth the stinging sensation.
"First your brother leaves, now your mother. All I'm left with is you?" He says, hurt in his tone.
I find my voice, opening my mouth to speak.
"Hurting me isn't going to bring them back." I say.
He stares at me for a moment, and I could swear for a split second my eyes connected with those of my old dad. The one who wasn't physically abusive. Soon after his eyes go dark and emotionless again, his hand colliding with my face once more. I try to sink down to the ground to escape him, but he pulls me up by my hair, and throws me down to the ground in the center of the living room. He grabs the vase sitting on the table, throwing it down at me and it shatters everywhere all around me, causing a few scrapes across my body
"You're hurting me!" I cry.
"I don't fucking care."
________
I sit in my room, the door locked. My shaky body sits up against the wall, my eyes staring off into space in a daze. It's never gotten that bad.. ever. I can still feel the sting in my skin. This has reached a whole new level that I was never expecting.
I grab my phone, hovering my thumb over Toms contact. I want to call him and tell him to come get me and never come back, but I know that's not an option. He has a life, he can't worry about me 24/7. I need to take care of myself.
I look around my room, spotting my suitcase sitting in the corner, probably covered in dust from not being used in years. I stand to my feet, and grab the suitcase, dropping it on top of my bed. My hands grab as many pieces of clothing as they can hold, stuffing it into the case. I get my electronics, chargers, self care items, stuffing all of them in. I sit on the suitcase to help zip it closed.
My heart pounds inside my chest, scared of the impulsivity of my decision. This could go so badly.. I just have to trust myself.
I text Tom to meet me in the school parking lot, and put my phone in my back pocket. There's no way my dad is still awake at this point. At the rate he was drinking he's definitely passed out by now.
Quietly walking down the steps, lugging the heavy suitcase in my arms, I see my dad on the couch asleep. He has a half drunk bottle of tequila still in his hands. I hold my breath as I walk past him, reaching to the table to grab his wallet and car keys. I pull the cash out, seeing there's about six hundred. Not enough to last very long but enough to get me out of here.
I take one last look around the room, and vow to myself that I will never come back here again. I deserve better than this.