Just Let Go

I pressed my face harder into my pillow, trying to drown out the sounds around me.

They were at it again. Arguing. Screaming. Threatening. I knew it was only a matter of time before I got involved. Or rather, they forced me to be involved.

It was all their fucking fault. Why couldn't they have a happy marriage? That's all I wished for. I'd give anything for that. I'd give up painting, even if that meant I'd be abandoning my only friends.

My pillow wilted beneath me, from the tears or the weight, I wasn't sure. From sorrow, I suppose.

I tensed when I heard the steps begin the ascent up the stairs. The hairs on my arms rose in protest. Don't come in, don't come in.

The door slammed open with a BAM! And my father stormed in, livid. I kept my head glued to my pillow, wishing this was all a dream.

"Get up! Get up right now!" he bellowed. "Godammit! I'll make you get up!"

I felt a muscular hand grip my elbow and yank me backwards, nearly pulling my arm from its socket. I gritted my teeth as the pain rippled through me. I sagged against his legs, refusing to make an effort to stand.

My father shook my arm violently, sending spasms of pain coursing through my body. I gasped, unable to hold back. He continued to shake me.

"What is wrong with you?! All you do is stay in your goddamn room all fucking day! What did I do to deserve a daughter like you?!" he screamed into my ears, his fingers tightening with each word that escaped his lips. That would add to the collection of bruises.

I squeezed my eyes shut. This was routine. All I had to do was pretend that I couldn't hear him. Then he'd go away. He always did.

"Dammit! Answer me! Fucking answer me!" I could feel his glare burning a hole in the back of my skull.

At least the pain was numbing, I thought. I hope I can still paint.

Finally, he dropped my arm and I slumped to the floor, unresponsive.

"Fuck this," my father whispered harshly. "I'm through with this family."

I opened my eyes at this, shocked. No, no, no, no. This wasn't allowed to happen. Everything would be all right, if only you stay together. Stay together. Don't leave. I'll do anything. Anything.

I struggled to sit up and tell him. To beg him, even. Beg him to stay. But I couldn't make my body move. I stayed stuck to the carpet, unable to protest when my father stalked out of the room.

I remained in that position long after I heard the front door slam. The sting of my father's departure still fresh.

It wasn't until the next morning when I finally forced myself to move to the bathroom. So I could throw up.

I sat beside the toilet, heaving my insides out. I glanced at the sink and something shiny caught my eye.

My razor glinted at me, beckoning. I crawled to sink and painfully urged my legs to move.

Once standing, I gripped the edges of the sink and stared into the soulless eyes that had once belonged to me.