Shaking uncontrollably in my closet, overtaken by trepidation, it was all I could do not to end my life there and then. I stared into space, pupils fully dilated, as the events of the past 20 minutes reoccurred in my head. Flames scorched my bony cheeks. I'd broken into a cold sweat, when reality uppercut me, leaving only the piercing screams of my sister in its wake. I was lucky I was even able to escape. I laid there, motionless, for another hour until I took a cautious step out of my closet. The apartment was completely silent, apart from the hushed sobs of Elle in the room adjacent to mine. My sister... My beautiful, intelligent, little sister. How misfortunate she was, to be born into such a sad excuse for a family. I crept into her room and tripped over the head of one of her dolls, which must have been ripped to shreds by our father's unforgiving hands just a short while ago. The slight disturbance was enough to make her flinch; perhaps she was bracing for the next lashing. "It's just me." I whispered into her ear as I lowered myself onto the bed next to her. Her arms were lined with bruises, and she'd taken a few blows to the face. Tears streamed out of her eyes onto her blanket. "What — did — I — do?" She managed between gasps of breath. Her jeans, which already contained more holes than fabric, were barely held up by a makeshift belt I had constructed out of a segment of rope. Really, she'd done nothing wrong. All she wanted was one more piece of bread. But our father had been drinking again. And when he slipped into one of his drunken rages, nothing could restrain him. "It's going to be okay." Was all that came out of my mouth. What else could I say? Something needed to be done. We couldn't continue living with only a few pieces of bread and water every day. So I made a plan: tonight we'd leave. Maybe we could run away to the police, or maybe even find a bridge to sleep under for a night. Anything to escape the miserable life at home, where the only peace we managed to get was in sleep; that is, if nightmares didn't accompany it. Since the two of us owned next to nothing our only objective was to escape. There was a window in the bathroom we could climb out of. It was dark enough that we'd fade into the shadows once we made it out. So, without saying a word, I took Elle's hand and tip-toed out of the room. We managed to reach the bathroom, where I had the good sense to lock the door, until I realized that the door had no handle at all. Just another victim of my father's alcohol fueled anger, I suppose. I began by standing on top of the toilet; the window was one of the privacy windows at the top of the wall. I reached down and pulled Elle up with me, but just as I was about to ease her gently out the window I made a tragic misstep. I clumsily fell off of the toilet with a thud, but managed to secure Elle in my arms. I heard a loud thud, followed by the sound of broken glass; most likely the shattering of empty booze bottles. My heart skipped a beat as my father, intoxicated and agitated, materialized in the doorway. I know it's bad. But I was told to do it. Dx
I'll never forget that crazed look in my father's eyes. They were filled with agony and anger. His voice trembled between every smack. "It's for your own good. Ilove you, you know that?" He would repeat over and over again. Even after all the physical pain, it wasn't enough. I found myself on the bathroom floor, scrubbing the grimy tiles. With every new drop of my own blood that would beneath me onto an already cleaned tile, a new wave of sadness flushed through me. My father insisted the window be barricaded. While I scrubbed, he pounded nails through planks, straight into the wall. So much for escape. After many grueling hours of physical exertion my work was complete. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to Elle's room. She had been let off with only a few spankings. Her Chest moved rhythmically up and down. I cautiously advanced towards her, watching the matted carpet for any signs of toys that could cause any noise and wake her. I eventually reached her bed. My innocent 5 year old sister must have been exhausted. She hadn't pulled her blanket up, or even bothered to pull the salmon pink ribbons out of her chocolate brown hair. I Gently covered her with her blanket and kissed her on the cheek. I dragged myself back to my room where, for the first time all night, I was able to evaluate my own condition. My right cheek had a nasty horizontal cut across it. My shirt sleeves had been torn apart, a camouflage of black and blue taking their places. My hair, which was identical to my sister's in terms of color, was in a knotted mess. I was numb to all feelings of pain. It was as if my body was a hollow shell. I slowly crawled into my own bed, afraid any loud noises would rouse my father again. Before my eye lids closed underneath the weight of my exhaustion, I resolved to never give up. I would leave this dreary place if it was the last thing I could do. But that could wait, because tonight, all I needed was sleep.... (Boring, I know.)