Stay With Me

I must have passed out while he was beating me ‘cause I woke up next to the door on the carpet in the hallway, soaked in blood, tears and sweat. My head was pounding and every piece of my body was hurting. I felt as if I just got run over by a truck more than once. I let my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight that shined in through the windows of the kitchen before I looked down at myself to see the damage that had been done. I didn’t expect to see my zipped pulled down and my jeans yanked down to the middle of my tights since I could barely feel the throbbing pain in my ass because of how much everything else was hurting.

My mom would often stop him and take my place if it ever got so far that he was about to rape me but I guess she didn’t want to this time. I guess I wasn’t worth it. She was probably also mad at me for not coming home that night I spent at Josh’s house.

I sighed and slowly yanked my jeans back up again, ignoring the pain.

I sat up slowly, ignoring how much the room was spinning, and leaned my back against the wall.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket to look at the time.

12:50.

I had been knocked out for more than a few hours. Dad would be pissed if I wasn’t in school.

I noticed that I had one new text message from Josh. I opened it and read the message that appeared on the screen.

Hi, where r u? x

I didn’t bother to answer him, instead I stood up with support of the wall and made my way up the stairs to my room.

When I got there I slumped down on the mattress I slept on and took out the familiar old box I had next to it. I opened it and let my eyes wander over the glistening razor blades that filled it. Both my mom and dad knew what was in this box but they didn’t care. I don’t think they’d even care if I killed myself.

I took one out of the box and rolled up the sleeve of my hoodie, staring down at my bruised left arm that was covered by hundreds of pale white scars and bright red cuts. I threw the box to the side and took a deep breath before I dug the sharp piece of metal into my skin.

A couple of hours later I heard the front door open and my father’s angry voice filled the house.

It took him only a second to find my mother who was probably sitting by the table in the kitchen, looking out the window as always.

I was still sitting on the mattress in my room, staring at the wall and listening to the yelling and beating that took place downstairs.

For a second I wanted to run down there and break up the fight and help mom but then I remembered how she just left me with him yesterday and changed my mind.

“Oliver, come down here!” I heard my father shout from downstairs.

I sighed and got up from the mattress, opening the door and made my way down the hallway.

As I stepped into the kitchen I froze in my step and stared with fear in my eyes at the sight before my eyes. He was holding her up by her hair while holding a gun pressed firmly to her head with his finger lingering on the trigger. I felt my body go cold for a second before heating up with fear the moment after. I felt my breath caught in my throat and I stumbled backwards until my back hit the wall.

He was standing there, smirking at my reaction and watching me intensively.

“First you don’t come home in time and now you’re not showing up for school” he said, still smirking “I think you’ve got to pay for that.

I couldn’t speak, I just stood there frozen with eyes wide with shock.

I let my eyes wander down to my mother, meeting her brown once that was now filled with fear and pain. I couldn’t bring myself to look in them so I let my eyes gaze up to my father’s cold once instead.

I wanted to switch places with her. I wanted it to be me with the gun to my head. I didn’t care about what she’s done and didn’t do, I just couldn’t lose her. She’s the only one I have left.

The silence was interrupted by the loud sound of a gunshot. I shut my eyes closed, not wanting to see the probably now painted red kitchen. I could hear my heart beating in my ears as I silently let the tears I held in fall down my cheeks.

I heard the sound of a body falling to the floor and the footsteps on my dad leaving the room. The air felt thick and I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. I just stood there before a couple of seconds before everything clicked in my hand and I followed the wall with my hand, making my way out of the kitchen. My mother was dead and she was not coming back. It was all my fault.

It wasn’t soon until I had found the door that led out of the house. I opened my eyes before opening the door and running out, not bothering to closing it behind me.

I just ran. I didn’t know where I was going, all I knew was that I needed to get away from everything. When I was about 3 blocks away I collapsed on the sidewalk from the pain pulsing through my body. I curled my knees up to my chest and cried silently. I couldn’t take this anymore. I was done.