Status: Sorry.

Agonium

008

"It wasn't my fault!"

I'm screaming, and tears are falling down my cheeks. I'm backing up against the wall, and I can only hear Leo's wail and those horrible grunts that Dad makes.

I want Mom, but she's at work.

From the corner of my eye, I see Leo sitting at the foot of his crib with a busted lip, and I do feel guilty, I do, but it wasn't my fault. It wasn't, and I'm afraid of my punishment.

My knees are weak, and I think that they may buckle. Dad's so close, and I can smell the beer on his breath. I wonder when was the last time he even had a drink; he's been asleep since I've been home.

Leo's thrashing in the background; he's afraid and in pain. He's only one and has no idea what's going on, and I can't even imagine the terror he must be going through.

"You think this is funny, Lovi?" He barks, and I flinch back. I need Mom. "You think punching your baby brother is funny?" He's in my face, and a hand is grabbing my shirt, yanking me closer to him. "Do you?!"

"He tripped!" I nearly screamed the words, and I could feel my stomach churn, "I didn't touch him! I swear, he tripped on my bag!" My hair is falling into my eyes, and all I wanted was the room to move, to breathe.

He snarls, "Bullshit."

I close my eyes, and mummer what could be prayers.

I yelp as Dad yanks me from my spot. He's grabbing the back of my shirt and pulling me down the hallway. I'm choking on the collar, and my feet stumble, but I don't trip, at least not yet. Dad's fingers are slightly clawing into the back of my neck, and the touch is so warm I feel like I might burst into flames.

He pushes me, his hold still tight on my collar, so I fall and choke myself even more. I'm wheezing, and I can't manage to take any air into my lungs. Tears are blurring my vision, and Leo's still crying in the living room.

Dad kicks me in the stomach, hard. I sound like a hurt puppy the way I whimper, and I can only curl into myself.

"Stand up!" He orders, but I can't. I'm too afraid. "Stand the fuck up; do what I tell you, girl!"

I try to stand, I really do, but there's a blossoming pain in my stomach, and I just can't get my feet underneath me. So, Dad helps. He pulls on my ponytail, lifting me so that my feet are barely touching the floor.

I'm sobbing, screaming, why can't the neighbors hear me? Every touch is like lightening, sending hot flashes of pain all over my body. I think I'm going to be sick; I need release from the constant pressure of being held like this.

Dad kicks open the bathroom door, and I bite my lower lip. He shoves me in, and I'm sprawled on the tile, begging him not to do this. I am truly at his mercy.

"I'll be good, I promise, Daddy, but please, please!" I'd rather be kicked again than this. I'm so afraid, and I need Mom. When will Mom be home?

He's staring at me with such hatred, and I don't think he's drunk. I think what he's showing me is real. "Turn the light on, make any noise, and I'll finish what I started. Understand?"

I nod weakly, holding back a sob.

He shuts the door and there's a click. He's locked me in from the outside. I'm in the dark, and it's so crippling. I feel the darkness morph around me, surround me, until there's nothing left but my pain and fear.

I feel so alone, so terrified, and I hate it.

Mom doesn't come home for another five hours.


***


I know I'm shaking, but I'm trying to ignore it. I'm in my bed; I'm warm and safe for the meantime. It was years ago, Lovi, remember that, it doesn't matter anymore.

I'm still crying. The ceiling light is on, but I still reach over and turn on the desk lamp. I think I'm going to puke.

I still don't like the dark.
♠ ♠ ♠
Honestly, do I ever have a plan?
Honestly, do I even ever try?