Past Praying

Sierra bit down on her lower lip with uncertainty. She could feel her mouth fill with blood from biting down so roughly, but she couldn’t care. The sultry summer air was thick around her as she slid her key into the lock. Please be asleep, Sierra thought as she pushed the door open. She felt her heart rate begin to quicken as she shook with fear, if Michael was awake she was so fucked. She snuck inside and gently closed the door behind her.
The lights in the house were out, and she couldn’t hear a single noise in the entire place. It was strange, considering Michael usually had the TV on full volume. Sierra slipped her bag off her back, and tossed it to the ground by the door. She flinched as it made a thud on the ground. Good going, Sierra. She quietly tip toed down the hall, to the room she shared with Michael. She let out a sigh of relief when she noticed it was empty. Maybe he went out, she thought. He clearly wasn’t sleeping on the bed, or doing drugs in the bathroom because he had no drugs left. That’s why Sierra was sneaking back into the house now. He had sent her on one of his many drug runs, and she was late coming back. No money or drugs in hand, Sierra had been ripped off.
She flipped on the light switch by the door. If she was lucky, Michael left long before Sierra was due home. Or he could be out looking for you the thought made shivers run down her spine. She ran her fingers through her long brown hair that had been matted and tangled from the storm she had to walk home in. Slipping off her soaked jeans and tee shirt, she made her way over to the dresser. She pulled out some black sweatpants, and a white tank top. Standing in front of the floor length mirror, she examined herself.
She ran her hands down her flat stomach, being careful not to touch her fading bruises on her ribs. She cringed inwardly, remembering how he pushed her to the floor and kicked her over and over again. She continued her way down her body, greeted by more dark blues and violets. Faded yellows and greens, signs of healing, but a reminder of just how many times she had been beaten over the past few months. She could have run then, packed her belongings and got the hell out. The thought had her stomach turning. She could never leave him. She loved him. Besides, how far could she get on her own before he found her? And she knew misfortune would probably come her way. She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to face the punishment of leaving when he finally found her again. And he would find her, he promised.
She shook the thoughts out of her head, because they were futile anyway. She wouldn’t leave Michael, because she loved him. She had always loved him, even when they were kids. She loved him even when he was beating her down to nothing. She quickly changed and threw her wet clothes into the laundry basket on the other side of the bed, before placing her shoes against the wall. She sat down and began to wonder where Michael went. Was he getting drunk? God that would only make matters worse. Sierra had somehow managed to get lost on the way to the meeting place with Michael’s drug dealer to pick up his poison. Sierra hated his drugs almost as much as she hated Michael. Sierra guessed his dealer, a burly guy she only knew as T, was probably so pissed off at having to wait he ran off with Michael’s money leaving Sierra to be the cause.
Before she could think of anything else, Sierra was being pulled off the bed and with a crack her head hit the corner of the drawers. She fell to the ground, pressing her hand to her head and feeling the warmth of blood spread over her fingers. She looked up through her blurring vision at Michael standing above her. She felt so small in that moment, like a defenseless child. She opened her mouth to say something, but she was quickly silenced with a swift kick to her ribs. She heard another crack, and cried out in agony.
“You little fucking bitch!” Michael yelled, anger coloring his vision. “Decide to go on our own little adventure, did we?”
Again, Sierra opened her mouth but was met with another kick to her stomach. “Stand up, you worthless shit!” he bellowed. Sierra grabbed onto the side of the drawer using it as a way to stable herself as she crept her way into a standing position. “Do you know how this looks for me? You fucked up a drug run! A simple task and you couldn’t even do that right! So I had to go get my fucking drugs myself!” Shit. That’s where he went.
“I-I’m sorry. I got lost and-“ before she could utter another word, she was met with a slap across her face. Sputtering and short of breath, she felt her stomach twist and her heart fall out of her chest. With another slap to the face, her mouth began to fill with the asinine taste of blood. Her vision started to fade into black and she felt herself fall to the floor roughly.