Because of school, I found excuses I could use to avoid staying at home. Life was more bearable now but then again, it was still unbarable. What do I mean?
Right now I’m kneeling beside my dad’s couch, being forced to watch his lousy team play while bleeding non-stop from my arm and lap. My dad was sitting comfortably with his eyes fixed to the television, grumbling everytime his team made a mistake. He held his knife tight, like he was excited to use it on me again.
“You better pray my team doesn’t loose.”, he said, boys bothering to look at me.
Everytime the opposing team scores a goal, I get cut pretty deep. At the moment, I was in so much pain, barely hanging on to consiousness.?
I was more terrified than I’ve been in a while. Not only did my whole body hurt like hell, my injuries were taking too long to heal. Watching blood gush out of my body was terrifying. I no longer felt excited feeling myself slowly loose life, things changed after my talk with Dylan.
I couldn’t yell, I couldn’t cry. Doing any of that would attract the knife or some hits, I’m not ready to endure more than I’m enduring now.
My breaths were loud and I was shaking, struggling to remain on my knees. I always had to do this every time my dad’s team played. I was like his anger relief. Every time he got frustrated, he’d dig a knife into my skin instead of punching something or yelling.
“Damn.”, my eyes shot wide open as soon as I heard my dad whisper that word.
“No…”, I gulped hard, feeling my heart speed. So many thoughts ran into my head. I thought of quickly grabbing the knife and stabbing my dad or just running away.
The opposing team had scored a goal. That meant I had to endure another cut without making a sound.
“My team is crap.”, my dad laughed, standing up with the knife in his hands then approaching me with his usual wicked smile. I could feel the sweat pour out of my skin and my temperature rise. I suddenly felt sick with my stomach tied into a knot.?
“That’s why I support them. Cause every time they loose, I get to have some fun.”, he smiled, standing in front of me, holding the knife up.
“Please…”, I begged, putting my head on the ground, hoping he’d have mercy this once.
“Oh. What’s this? You haven’t healed up. That’s rare.”, he frowned, squatting then grabbing my injuried arm and squeezing it.
I bit my lower lip, struggling to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t want to scream. I didn’t want to cry but it felt impossible.
I felt my teeth sink into my lips as I struggled to keep them shut.?
“Damn. Your blood is really messing up the place. You better clean this up if you survive.”, dad said, letting my arm go and whipping the blood he got on his hand on my hair. “That was gross.”, he chuckled. “I can never be a doctor.”
You sick bastard.?
“Your lap seems to be healing up.”, he said, glancing at my injured lap. It was barely closing up. I still felt pain there. “So should I open it up for ya?”, he chuckled, stabbing my lap before I even processed what he said.
It came as a surprise, I couldn’t hold it in. I had to. I scream, pushing him away. He fell back, laughing, watching me stare at the knife stuck in my lap. I couldn’t guess my expression, I was screaming but frozen at the same time.?
He sat up, pulling the knife out of my lap roughly then going for my throat and leaving a small cut there. “So tempting.”, he grinned, biting his lower lip like he just saw fresh pie.
I shivered as he left a few other small cuts, luckily for me, my healing was coming back to normal so they healed instantly. The stab on my lap however, took it’s time. I felt traumatized, watching him move the knife around, deciding where to cut next.
“Stop crying baby. If not I’ll have to leave deeper cuts on your neck. You wouldn’t like that now would you?”, he asked, getting a shake from my head as an answer. I took in a deep shaky breath then wiped off the tears spilling out of my eye, hoping to stop it.
“I’ll just leave the next cut on your arm since it’s almost done healing.”
“It’s… It’s go-going to hurt.”
“That’s the point darling.”, he said, grabbing my arm and getting his knife close. Before he could give me another cut, cheering came from the television, causing his attention to drift to it.? Mine too.?
He laughed, while I cried silently. Another goal from the opposing team another cut.
Without thinking, I pulled my arm out of his grip, grabbing his knife while his guard was still down then standing up, attempting to run away but falling instead.
“Huh? What was that?”, he asked, standing up and walking up to my half dead body and picking me up by my hair then leaning in, whispering. “Okay, I’ll let you run. Go ahead.”
I didn’t move though. It felt like I lost control of my body at that time. I lost hope.?
“If you don’t hurry up I’ll embed my teams name into your skin.”, what he said kicked me.?
I tried standing up but I couldn’t, so I crawled instead, reaching the door trying to shut out the sound of his laughter. My injuries were all almost healed now but I felt too weak to move properly. I was too tired.
I panted, holding the door knob, using it as a support while I struggled to stand up.?
“C’mon, don’t bore me. Is that what you call running?”, he said while I limped out of the house.?
Ofcourse a girl dripping with blood everywhere would attract eyes but people were barely out today.
People who saw me simply acted like they saw nothing and looked away, probably disgusted.
It felt like it took forever, but I finally got to Mr. Arthur’s house, knocking non stop, scared that my dad was behind me, enjoying the sight of me suffering.
The door opened shortly after.?
I fell into the person’s arms immediately, not caring who it was. My muscles everywhere hurt. My head hurt. My chest hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything was a pain.
I could guess I was in Mr. Arthur’s hands though, making me a bit more comfortable. I already felt dead. Running away from home and pushing my dad. He’d kill me next time we meet.?
“Avery.”, Mr. Arthur said, shocked at my condition.
“Ughhh! She’s such a faker!” I heard Dylan yell from a distance. I didn’t even bother to look at him. I ignored, noticing as his dad threw a glare at him for me.
“C’mon, you actually believe this?”, Dylan asked, walking in to see me while his dad carried me inside.?
He froze immediately, gasping.
“What happened?”, Mr. Arthur asked.
I couldn’t find the strength in me to push out a word from my mouth but it was clear who put me in this situation. I was surprised Mr. Arthur had to hear it first to believe.?
“M… d… a”, as I said before, I couldn’t utter a word.
“She can’t even say anything!”, Dylan sounded like he was freaking out. It was almost funny. He’d never seen me beaten up talk less of half dead. He knew nothing about what I go through as home. “Why are you so calm?! Call the doctor!”, he yelled at his dad, looking frustrated when he saw that his dad didn’t look like he was planning on doing that. He trusted too much in my speedy healing.
“Ugh!”, he yelled, running towards the kitchen, grabbing a cup and filling it with water then running back.
I watched him, surprised at how much he seemed to care. I gasped when he fell with the cup, landing on the broken glass pieces.
“I’m okay. I’m okay.”, he repeated, standing up immediately and running back into the kitchen then grabbing a cup and filling it with water.
By the time the cup was full my injuries were gone, just dried blood on my body, trauma and fatigue. Watching him struggle so much just to get me a glass of water made me feel good in a way.
He ran back to me with the cup in his hand. Mr. Arthur lowered me so he’d be able to put the cup in my mouth. He did, immediately.
I was too surprised at his gestures to figure I was meant to drink it, I was lost, watching him like I had never seen him before.
“Drink up silly.”, he frowned, noticing I wasn’t drinking anything. “Didn’t fall on broken glass pieces for nothing.”, he said, pushing the cup a bit.
“Oh.”, it came out cracked before I drank up.
As soon as I was done, Mr. Arthur carried me to my room, dropping me carefully on the bed, “I’ll be back.”, he said, rushing out of the room, revealing Dylan he was basically hiding behind him before he left. I noticed how worried he looked, it was heart warming.?
Gathering all the strength I had in me, I sat up, hiding my pain behind a smile and saying, “Im good now!”, I wasn’t in my right senses to be honest. I wasn’t thinking. I had no energy for that.
“You faker!”, he frowned, trying to growl but stopping when he realized he sounded like crap.
“She wasn’t faking. She heals quickly.”, his dad corrected him, walking back into the room probably to see the position I was in before leaving again, while I struggled to keep my focus on Dylan. I was dizzy.
“Why can’t I do that?”, Dylan asked, pouting and folding his arms over his chest.
“When you’re sixteen!”, his dad answered from outside the room. “Sixteen huh.”, he said to himself, sounding excited before giving me his eyes and walking up to me.
“Can we be friends.”, I smiled, feeling a different vibe between us now. He irritated me less.
“No. Eww.”, he rolled his eyes, trying to act hard to get or something.
“I’m eww?” I frowned.?
He sighed, glancing at me before looking away, “No. You’re kinda cute… I guess.”, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“A compliment…”, I trailed, talking to myself. “Oh gollie”, I smiled at him, throwing my compliment at him, “You’re cute too.”
“I know right.”he grinned.
His ego was such a pain. “I take it back.” I laughed a bit, stopping cause my chest hurt.
He laughed too but it died a quickly as mine.
“So… Friends?”, he asked, stretching out his hand for me to shake. I was glad he didn’t mind that I had blood everywhere.?
“Best friends.”, I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to me for a hug.
He didn’t restrain though. He hugged me back.?
At that moment I realized, I don’t know what a friend is. I don’t know what a best friend is. I just wanted one.?
Dylan and I aren’t friends. Not yet but for now, we weren’t enemies either.
I felt myself loose consciousness as soon as I relaxed a bit.