Together again ✔

23I Oxygen

TW: abuse (if you may get triggered by this, then skip to the end and I'll do a brief summary of the chapter in the authors note)

The next morning, I found myself awake at 5am, already wide wake and unable to get back asleep. The shadows in the room leered at me, forcing me into a state of pure fear.

Each little movement scared me, as the thought of David plagued my mind, forcing me to scramble out of bed and to my feet upon looking at my fit bit and seeing the time. I needed to make breakfast.

I had to assume that David's schedule remained the same and he would be down by 7 O'clock, leaving me time to cook, clean, wash the utensils and dry up. However, I doubted I was going to be able to have enough time if I didn't hurry downstairs now.

Quickly hurrying to my feet, I silently crept across my room, the only sound that of my ragged breathing and soft footsteps. God only knew what David would have done if I had accidentally woken him up.

It was still dark, and I fumbled slightly when opening the kitchen door, only just able to see the outline of the handle. However, I soon realised I had worse issues to worry about, as I was reunited with the smell of drugs and alcohol.

I scrunched my noise up at the familiar stench and almost gagged at the sudden intensity of it. It had been a couple of months since I was last greeted by this stink, and I was unprepared for just how much it burnt at my nostrils.

Deciding not to have to torture myself with the stench, I inhaled deeply through my mouth, still gaining a weak smell of acidity but finding it was a lot better.

Upon solving the issue of the reeking smell, I reached over to the wall, allowing my hand to skim the damp surface before I came across the light switch. I quickly switched it on and after a few seconds of it just flickering, the bulb above my head lit up, its light so dim that I didn't even have to squint to become accustomed to the sudden light.

The small, cramped space that met my eyes brought back more memories than I would have liked. Glass shattered on the floor, blood staining the walls, peeling paint, bottles strewn across the counters, white powder resting on the sides.

Just at the sight of it, I wanted to cry, remembering the days of torture I had once had to face in this very room. Every twist of my stomach, every pound of my heart, every new scar never leaving my skin.

I could never forget that.

Quickly, I hurried over to the stove, my face contorting into that of disgust at the greasy, dirty, dust- covered surface. Being at my biological family's house, I had grown used to actually living in decent conditions.

Glancing at my fit bit once again, I saw ten minutes had already gone by.

Time to cook.

REUNITED

I was beyond scared.

The scrambled eggs had been sat on the table for the last fifteen minutes, and David still hadn't appeared downstairs, meaning the food was probably quite cold by now.

I had been hearing movement from upstairs for the last five minutes, and I had constantly debated whether I should have placed the scrambled egg on a low heat just until he came down, so it would warm up. However, I didn't want him to come down if it wasn't ready. I was sure he would have punished me.

But, after not hearing any footsteps thumping down the stairs after fifteen minutes, I finally decided to place the scrambled egg on the stove, feeling tense as I watched it heat up agonisingly slowly.