Freedom

Do you know what Freedom is? No. You don’t. Not like I know her. Freedom use to be my enemy, smirking her little devilish smirk in at me through that barely big enough to be noticeable window. Now she’s my best friend. Want to know how I came to be so close to my friend Freedom? Why not turn the page and embark on a bit of my story then?

Blood racing. Heart pumping. Lungs gasping for air. Eyes fighting to stay open.

I can taste my own blood, now pouring from my mouth. That amazing, crimson, copper-tasting liquid, splattering across the floor, staining favorite clothes. I can feel my body being completely drained of its power (what little power I have left that is), fighting to keep myself upright. My brain sending messages to my legs; “Stay standing. Walk. Run. Anything but collapse.” Do those work? No. One last hit. The room spins, darkening quickly as my body falls to the floor; limp.

Dead? No. Never. My body won’t give him that relief. Never give him something to make him smile.

I wake to the faint sound of Christmas carols being sung, and a door slamming, cutting off the rest of the song. I can barely move even a fraction of an inch. Something’s broken, that I know without any of those damn doctor’s x-rays or exams. I slowly reach a hand up, rubbing at my eyes, which was not the best of ideas. Swollen doesn’t even start to cover it. I force my eyes open as much as I can, seeing only darkness and the faint shine of what looks to be multi-colored stars; the Christmas lights strung around the tree. No presents are tucked away beneath it though. No. I’m not good enough for those.

The only sound is that of my breathing. Slowly. Inhale, exhale. Sharp, stabbing pain. Inhale, cough, inhale again, more pain.

The moment I force myself to sit up, a light switches on above my head; blinding me, causing my arm to fly up to quickly block my eyes. He’s here. ‘He’ being my dad. He’s been watching me this whole time?! I glance down, my eyes stinging even worse than before due to the sudden burst of light around me. That’s not all he’s been doing.

Tears fall. He swings. More blood. More tears. More pain.

I drop my arm down, wrapping it around my waist as I pushed myself to my feet, running to my room as fast as I could. Hands trembling as I reach out, clicking the lock shut just as I feel his weight pressing into the door, struggling to get in; failing. Thank God! Silence. If He is even real…

Breath hitching. Legs shaking. Body sliding down. Eyes closing. Thankful.

All I can do is sit here; back pressed tightly to the door, knees drawn up to my chest. My face buried into my knees, trying to stop my tears. My body is forced forward slightly each time he rams into the door. I don’t move. Just wait. Wait until he gives up and I hear his footsteps disappear down the hallway. A bottle smashes, shattering somewhere in the distance. Another on downed.

Searching. Drawers opening. Objects falling. Finally. A razorblade. Shining. Calling. Needing.

I grab the blade quickly, jumping up and sitting on the counter of my bathroom, arm outstretched over the sink; ready to be drained. I place the blade on my pale skin, pressing down as hard as I can, dragging it along my sensitive flesh. A line of crimson red rises to the surface, quickly bubbling over as I pull the blade away, watching the magnificent scene displayed before me. The scene I, myself, created. One drop, two drops, three drops… The pattern continues slowly, stopping only minutes later. One more? Why not? I drag the blade along my wrist again, up to my forearm this time. Wanting; needing the scene to be more dramatic then before. Just as each day of my life becomes more dramatic. Heh.. thanks to him.

Blood pours over. The blade falls. Want. Need. More!

My eyes never leave this wonderful scene, that is, until I hear my phone chiming back inside my room. Another text?! I sigh, push myself up off the counter and walk quickly to get the phone, not caring about the drops of blood hitting the small carpet fibers. What’s going on? I heard shouting. You need out! Yeah, like I had a chance of getting out of this horrid place without them finding me. Like my best friend new anything about my life.

A mask. Hiding. Dancing through the day at a masquerade ball.

One call. That’s all it’ll take. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s all a lie. Maybe all the advertisements on the TV are lying. Then again, maybe they’re not. Guess I’ll have to call and find out. I shrug, waiting for the beautiful scene to stop; waiting for the blood to dry across my arm before picking up my phone and calling one of the multiple numbers my friends had given me.

A small voice. A smile. An actual smile. Have I gone crazy now?

One call. It was true. That’s all it took for those blue and red flashing lights to be outside my house within minutes. One call huh? One call for him to be taken away; put away. One call for me to be out. To be free. To let the world see me. Not my mask which I usually wear, but me. The real me; bruises, scars, healing wounds and all; me. Is that all you’ve ever wanted for yourself? Silence. Yes!

One deep breath. Fresh air. A fresh scene. A laugh. Friends. Freedom!