Knowing this wonderful day is coming to a close and I have to face reality it’s daunting. My reality is a living hell.
My salmon colored, paint-chipped house comes into view and my stomach sinks with despair. The lights are on, which means one thing… the monsters are home. The thing is, they seem to be always home lately.
There’s something they’re keeping from me. Every day their words hurt like stones being thrown at my body. All the frustrations of their bad day come barreling at me in the shape of fists.
As if reading my thoughts, Dean’s angry tone halts me in my tracks. “You know you don’t have to go back there.”
He’s right. Where would I go, though? I have no one in this world except for my neighbor, and hell, I can’t move there. That would be like teasing the devil and his mistress.
“I have to.” My voice cracks at the thought of someone actually caring about me. Taking my arm, Dean steps in front of me.
“We could leave together and never come back?” he pleads. His eyes linger on a fresh bruise on my wrist, and I cross my arms over my chest to hide them from his sight. He never says anything, he doesn’t need to; his eyes do all the talking. I think he knows I don’t want to talk about it. Our time together is my escape from reality, because reality for me is a nightmare that no amount of pinching will wake me from.
My hands glide down his face. His expression is sad, yet there’s a fire in his eyes. “You’re such a great friend, Dean. But I need to go in there. I’ll be eighteen soon, so everything will be alright. I can leave and my parents won’t be able to force me to stay in this house.”
“No. It won’t be alright. What if they kill you?”
It’s not like that thought hasn’t crossed my mind plenty of times before. A crack of thunder startles me, and I jump back. We knew a storm was coming, but we weren’t sure what kind it would be. Dean takes my hands from his face and holds them, squeezing.
“Dean, these thoughts cross my mind daily. I’ve been planning to leave as soon as I’m eighteen. If I do what I’m told, I’m okay.”
He drops my hand and starts pacing in front of me.
A droplet of water hits my face. I wipe it away and look to the threatening sky—it’s darker than normal.
“I’ll be waiting out here, and if I hear one sound as though they’re hurting you, or raised voices, I’m coming in and you’re leaving with me.” I open my mouth to protest but his hand comes up, stopping me. “No, no arguing. If something happens tonight, I’m taking you away from this hell. No one should live like this.”
My shoulders sag as the tension leaves them. “Okay. Thanks for caring, Dean.”
Before we continue walking, Dean takes me in his arms, giving me the warmest hug I’ve ever experienced. He smells like the popcorn we enjoyed earlier. He places a feather-light kiss on my forehead. “Be safe,” he whispers before releasing me.
I linger for a moment, simply looking at him. A crack of thunder makes me jump. Turning my back on the second good thing in my life, Suzie being the first, I walk toward my doom.
With each step closer to the house my anxiety spikes to its highest. Looking back over my shoulder, Dean walking slowly behind me. There’s a serious expression on his face, as if he’s waiting for something to happen. I already know something will; I’ve been out all day. They don’t like that. Raindrops hit my skin as a deep chill runs up my spine.
With one last glance at Dean, I head up the stairs to my front door. The storm outside begins to get louder. Turning the handle, I push it open, and my heart slams against my chest like a beating drum. Once inside, I pull the door shut behind me.
I learned quickly in this house not to turn my back on the other tenants. In the living room, they stand, and I square my shoulders to face them. They have never been waiting for me like this. My mother, with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. My father beside her, his jaw tensing.
“Where have you been?” he growls. His hands are dug deep in his pockets.
I stop, putting some distance between us. “At the library, then the park.” My voice is shaky. I always try to hold my own; now that I’m older I don’t want to be weak. I’ve put up with so much that I don’t think I can take more of their punches and knives being swung at me.
“Who were you with?”
I raise my eyebrows at my mother’s question. What does that have to do with anything? I decide lying is the better option. “No one,” I reply. Knowing Dean is outside, waiting to take me away, gives me a little comfort. As I stand before my monster parents, I can’t even accept they are my family.
My father takes two large strides and grips my shirt, pulling me right up to his face. I didn’t even have a chance to step back. “You’re lying to me.” He releases his grip, only to allow himself access to my face. His large hand slams me across the cheek.
My eyes water from the sting of the contact, and I suck in a hard breath. Why do I put up with this? Dean is right. No one should live like this.
“For lying, you’re going in the basement. Also, I found your little stash so now you’re without water and snacks. You’ll starve down there before I let you see the sunlight again.”
“No, please,” I beg. Tears swell in my eyes blurring my vision. The thought of the room’s familiar dark, damp, and disgusting scares me.
My father grabs my ponytail and yanks me toward the dark room. My mother kicks my feet out from under me, causing me to fall and be dragged. I let out a scream.
I can’t take this anymore. I need to get out of this place or I’m going to die. Finding my feet again, I begin pulling back. As much as this hurts my scalp, and it feels as though my hair is going to be pulled out, I need to fight. Fight to survive. My father yanks harder, until we’re standing at the open door to the dark room.
Adrenaline pumps through me, and knowing this is going to hurt me as well, I take the risk. With everything I can muster, I ram my father in the ribs with my head, causing him to stumble and fall down the stairs. I follow behind. My body slams against the steps then lands on my unmoving father. I hope he doesn’t get up. My mother screams profanities at me, and as she comes toward me she grips something in her hand.
My eyes adjusted to the minimal light.
It’s a gun.
Why do they have a gun? Were they planning to kill me? Where is Dean? I thought he’d be here by now. Another loud crack of thunder outside soundtracks the scene that’s playing out before me.
“Why do you have a gun?” I shakily ask, not moving my eyes from the black metal she aims at me. Slowly I stand up holding my hands out in front of me. A loud groan comes from my father, and my stomach twists with dread. He’s still alive. Now I’m in for it.
“Because it’s time for you to die, you worthless girl,” my mother hisses at me.
My gaze flicks from her to him and back to her. She holds the gun steadily aimed at my chest. Her hands don’t shake, yet mine are trembling.
“What did I ever do to you, for you both to hate me so much?” I scream at them. If I’m going to die, then I will die fighting.
My mother’s face contorts, and for a fraction of a second I see hurt show on her face, before she shakes her head and composes herself. “You were never meant to live this long. We just wanted the money. Then this idiot killed the man at the grocery store and everything got way out of hand. So the best thing for us was to keep you until we no longer needed a maid.”
A maid? None of this makes sense. My mother is speaking gibberish. “What are you talking about?”
“No, don’t tell her. Let her die never knowing.” My father staggers to his feet and stands before me, a cut on the side of his face. For the amount of times my blood has spilled because of him, I take great pleasure in the view before me. My lips twitch as I attempt to hide my smile.
My father takes the gun from my mother, keeping it aimed at me.
“Shoot me then,” I yell. The ground beneath me slowly turns to mud as the water from the rain comes through. My shoes squelch in the mud as I slowly back away. “If you want me dead then do it already. You should have done it years ago.”
“I enjoy inflicting pain on you, so why would I want to kill you right now? Maybe I’ll shoot you and make you die a slow death.” He laughs. Before I realize what’s happening, I see someone coming down the stairs holding something. Dean…
They don’t see it coming. Dean takes the bat in his hand and swings it at my father’s head. He crumbles to the floor, unmoving, dark pools of blood over his face. Quickly, I pick up the gun that has fallen at my feet and aim it at my mother. The fear in her face mirrors what mine would have been just minutes ago.
I smile at her—it feels evil. I have so much power over her. This gun is the right tool to get me out of here. I’ve spent so many years of living in this hellhole and now I have a way out. A way to begin a new life far from these monsters who have caused me huge amounts of pain over the smallest things. A broken glass, a messy room—anything they could to inflict copious amounts of pain on my body. It’s only increased as I got older. I don’t remember much else from when I was younger but I recall every blow this fragile body took. Every bruise that colored my skin. Every drop of blood that was spilt.
My eyes locked with Dean’s and red seeps into my vision. No more will I live like this.
Bang!
I fire the gun hitting my mother in the chest. I get so much joy watching her body crumble to the floor and the life drain from her body and leaving this world. The shocked expression on her face is something I’ll engrave into my memory, as a reminder to never allow people like her to treat me like the scum on their shoes. I hope they enjoy their time in hell, because that’s where they’re going.
Looking at the motionless body of my father, Dean leans down and checks his pulse.
“He’s dead as well,” Dean whispers beneath the rain and thunder pouring outside.
“Someone would have heard the shot,” I say. My voice seems dead, though inside I rejoice at the freedom I now have to actually live.
“No, the storm is too loud. What are we going to do?” Panic rises in his voice as he begins pacing around in the mud. I, on the other hand, have a plan forming in my head. Call it instinct.
“My father recently bought some bags of concrete mix to make a slab for a shed in the backyard. Could we dump it in here with the sand, then board up the door and make it look as though it’s a wall?” My idea races through my head. I believe it’s a solid plan but Dean doesn’t look convinced. “Dean come on, help me,” I beg.
My hands are clammy, my chest vibrates with adrenaline, and I’m actually excited to be ridding the world of these two people. I show Dean where the bags are and we get to work. No words are exchanged and we work until the last bag of concrete is placed over their bodies. It isn’t perfect but it will do. After that, we find some wood and touch-up paint that my father kept and board up the door to look like another part of wall. It’s like the dark room never existed.
“Thank you,” I breathe. I turn and face Dean. He stands with his arms folded and an unreadable look on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Why did you do that?” He tries to control his anger, but it’s right there on the tip of his tongue.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you involved, and I told you that.”
“No, you would be dead right now if it wasn’t for me,” he yells, sweat dripping down his face. Our breathing is heavy.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, reaching my arm toward him. He flinches.
“We can’t be friends anymore,” he replies, before he turns and walks out the front door, not looking back.
I collapse on my knees. Tears fall freely down my face and even though I’ve now got blood on my hands, I feel no remorse—I feel nothing but relief. I’m free.