Stranded
Ein
I couldn’t hear myself think for the blaring music surrounding me. A smile was painted on my face as I walked through the people around me. The red plastic cup I was carrying was filled with a liquid unknown to me, but I kept sipping it. I pushed my way through the mass of people to my best friend, Avery. She had a beer bottle in her hand, and was hanging on the side of a boy I’d never seen before. I pried her away from the boy, took her beer bottle, and dragged her away from the party and into my car.
“Leilah!” Avery cried out in protest. “Come on, we can’t be the first to leave!”
I didn’t say anything on the way home. Avery complained the entire way back to her house, with slurred speech. We caught every red light, and I looked at my clock, inching its way towards my curfew. I turned into her neighborhood as the digital display on my clock turned to 12:30. I helped Avery stumble to her front door and unlocked it for her. She tripped into her house and began to make her way up the stairs. Closing the door, I returned to my car and began the forty-five minute trek back across town.
I pulled into my driveway, unsure of what was to come. It was 1:19, almost fifty minutes past my curfew. Praying my father was asleep, I snuck into the garage, as quietly as possible.
The motion detecting light flashed on, and I froze, eyes wide open, afraid my father had caught me. I looked around, and after ensuring my father was inside, I continued my venture in. I unlocked the door and walked to the bottom of the stairs. I paused to regain my composure. I swear I could hear my heart beating, the house was so silent. I walked up the creaking stairs and passed by my older brother, Greg’s bedroom. I could smell the pot smoke radiating from beneath his door. Finally I reached my bedroom. Thanking sweet God, I opened my door, dropped my purse on the floor, and flicked the light on, with an accomplished smile spread across my face. The smile on my face disappeared when my eyes focused on the chair in my room. My father was sitting in the chair, drunk and with a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.
My father stood and walked to where I was standing. His boot heels clicked on the hardwood floor. He circled me, looking me up and down. “Where the hell have you been?” He asked in a harsh tone.
I stayed silent, knowing after seventeen years that saying anything would only make things worse.
“I SAID where the HELL have you been?!” He demanded. This time he was directly in front of me, looking straight into my eyes. I returned a cold glare.
“I swear, missy, if you don’t tell me where on this godforsaken earth you were!” He said once more.
I moved away from him towards my bed. I plugged my phone into its charger and took off my jacket, pretending my father wasn’t there.
I had done it. My father was angry. He stomped to where I was and grabbed my shoulders. I resisted and tried to pull away, but it only made him angrier. I let out a scream and clawed at my father, trying desperately to get away.
In an angry drunken state, he started to swing his fists. I dodged the first, and the second. The third swing, strongest and angriest, hit me. His knuckles smashed into the side of my nose. I lost my breath, along with my balance, and fell to the floor.
Tears began to form in my eyes, and I felt the blood begin to flow from my nose and pool on the wooden floor beneath me. I fought to keep my eyes open, but I was losing blood, and consciousness quickly. My shoulders relaxed, and my face fell to the side as everything faded to black.
“Leilah!” Avery cried out in protest. “Come on, we can’t be the first to leave!”
I didn’t say anything on the way home. Avery complained the entire way back to her house, with slurred speech. We caught every red light, and I looked at my clock, inching its way towards my curfew. I turned into her neighborhood as the digital display on my clock turned to 12:30. I helped Avery stumble to her front door and unlocked it for her. She tripped into her house and began to make her way up the stairs. Closing the door, I returned to my car and began the forty-five minute trek back across town.
I pulled into my driveway, unsure of what was to come. It was 1:19, almost fifty minutes past my curfew. Praying my father was asleep, I snuck into the garage, as quietly as possible.
The motion detecting light flashed on, and I froze, eyes wide open, afraid my father had caught me. I looked around, and after ensuring my father was inside, I continued my venture in. I unlocked the door and walked to the bottom of the stairs. I paused to regain my composure. I swear I could hear my heart beating, the house was so silent. I walked up the creaking stairs and passed by my older brother, Greg’s bedroom. I could smell the pot smoke radiating from beneath his door. Finally I reached my bedroom. Thanking sweet God, I opened my door, dropped my purse on the floor, and flicked the light on, with an accomplished smile spread across my face. The smile on my face disappeared when my eyes focused on the chair in my room. My father was sitting in the chair, drunk and with a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.
My father stood and walked to where I was standing. His boot heels clicked on the hardwood floor. He circled me, looking me up and down. “Where the hell have you been?” He asked in a harsh tone.
I stayed silent, knowing after seventeen years that saying anything would only make things worse.
“I SAID where the HELL have you been?!” He demanded. This time he was directly in front of me, looking straight into my eyes. I returned a cold glare.
“I swear, missy, if you don’t tell me where on this godforsaken earth you were!” He said once more.
I moved away from him towards my bed. I plugged my phone into its charger and took off my jacket, pretending my father wasn’t there.
I had done it. My father was angry. He stomped to where I was and grabbed my shoulders. I resisted and tried to pull away, but it only made him angrier. I let out a scream and clawed at my father, trying desperately to get away.
In an angry drunken state, he started to swing his fists. I dodged the first, and the second. The third swing, strongest and angriest, hit me. His knuckles smashed into the side of my nose. I lost my breath, along with my balance, and fell to the floor.
Tears began to form in my eyes, and I felt the blood begin to flow from my nose and pool on the wooden floor beneath me. I fought to keep my eyes open, but I was losing blood, and consciousness quickly. My shoulders relaxed, and my face fell to the side as everything faded to black.