The hairs on my skin stand on end and I know they’re watching, getting their jollies over seeing me cry. From preventing me from having the one thing that can make me feel something other than this. The one thing that can make me feel like I’m in control.
I don’t know how long I lay there, tears in my eyes, as they grow heavier until eventually closing, casting me into darkness.
“You really are an ungrateful little bitch.” My dad’s voice slurs. Storm isn’t home, he's at football practice. I promised him I’d come home and go straight to my room and lock my door.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. When I was younger I would snap back at my father, but I learned it only ended up with someonegetting hurt. Most of the time it was Storm. He always jumped in to defend me and take the brunt of my father’s anger.
“Sorry, doesn't put food on the table,” he barks at me.
“I can make it now,” I mumble as I try to move past him, but he catches me, slamming my head into the wall.
“Now’s too late,” he growls through gritted teeth as he grips a handful of hair and drags me down the hallway. I grab at my hair, my feet moving frantically trying to keep up with him and alleviate some of the pain.
“I’m sorry. Dad, please let me go. You’re hurting me.” Tears stream from my face, but he doesn’t release me.
“You think I care about your crying? Your fucking brother’s coddled you too damn much all because he thinks you’re special because you’re a fucking omega. All you are is a damn killer.” He drops me onto the kitchen floor. “I’m going out. I want this kitchen clean by the time I get back.” He pulls back his foot and kicks me right in the stomach, causing me to scream.
I hear the thudding of his boots on the floor as he moves away from me. A small part of me is happy that he’s leaving. I hold my breath until I hear the door close.
Pushing up on my hands, I look around the kitchen. It’s clean, except for the jar of peanut butter and bread I left on the counter. I foolishly made a sandwich then went to my room to do my homework. Time got away from me and I never cleaned it up, or cooked dinner. It’s the one thing I know I have to do every day to keep my dad somewhat happy.
I quickly clean it up, then head to the bathroom, needing to see the damage my father caused to my body and to get some pain relievers. Between my head and my stomach, I don’t know which hurts worse.
One look in the mirror tells me there’s no way I’m going to be able to hide this from Storm. My face is already bruising.Great. I don’t even want to lift my shirt, already knowing it looks the same.
Sometimes I just wish I could die. My dad would be happy, and Storm wouldn’t focus his energy on me. He’d be able to live a normal life. If I wasn’t here, then my mother would still be here.
Opening the cabinet, my fingers dance over the contents inside it. Aftershave, toothpaste, bar of soap and a pack of razors. My hand stops there. I used the blade out of one of them before. I swore I’d only do it once. But now all I can think about is how it made me feel. The control it gave me. It was the one thing in my life I could be in charge of. Pulling a razor out of the package, I remove the blade and rush back to my room.
I dart up in bed, gasping for air. My eyes quickly scan the darkness of the room, trying to find what scared me. But there’s no one there. Or, they’re gone for now.
It was a dream. A nightmare. The moment that planted the seed to the beginning of my addition to cutting.
Chapter 11
River
“River, wake up.” Storm’s voice wakes me from my sleep. He smiles down at me, his grin warm and contagious.
. “You’re okay now. I got you.”
“You have to leave,” I choke, grabbing at his shirt so hard my fingers cramp. Tears run from my eyes. “They’ll hurt you.”
“Who are you talking about? I heard you screaming and rushed in here. Dad’s out cold, but you have to calm down so you don’t wake him up.”
I look around frantically, taking in the familiarity of my bedroom.
“Breathe,” he whispers to me.
I let go of his shirt, wrapping my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “It was all a dream.” I mumble, full of happiness that the nightmare I thought I was in was just that, a nightmare.
Storm pulls away from me, placing a hand on each side of my face, forcing me to look at him. “Just a dream. Did something happen with Dad before I got home?” He grits his teeth as his body tenses.
“No. Just a bad dream.” My breathing starts to even out now that I know I’m okay. “Must have been that damn scary movie I watched about a group of friends at a cabin in the woods.”
He lets out a soft laugh, his hands dropping from my face now that he knows I’m okay. “No more scary movies for you.” He boops my nose like he always does.
My body freezes, my eyes go wide. Something isn’t right. My heart pounds in my chest as my eyes scan the room trying to find where the danger is coming from. But no one is here but me and Storm.
