Running away

Adrienne

I woke up achy and sore once again. Yesterday’s beating had been something else as I had not been expecting it.

Usually I would know if my parents were angry beforehand because their faces would be blank and there would be little signs like the twitching of mother’s eye and father’s foot tapping due to the anticipation because they were sick like that , sick in the head that is but yesterday there had been none no warnings or anything. 

It had been sudden and out of the blue and just because I asked if I could skip our daily ritualistic dinner to go to the library with some of my friends on a weekend. I had lied as I didn’t have any friends but I had just wanted to get out of the stuffy house. 

I guess I should have known as the dinner was the only time that was compulsory “family time” where they could mock and curse me and I should have never asked but I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to get out and spend some time free of all the darkness.  The darkness was slowly but surely consuming me. “May I go to the library on the weekend?” I had asked and there had been dead silence before my father got up slowly from his chair and attacked me while my mother watched.  

I got up slowly and leaned on the headboard. Thankfully father had not broken any bones but there were bruises, lots and lots of bruises but all of them were hidden by my clothes. They were careful about not leaving anything visible as they had a reputation to maintain. They were very careful about maintaining their reputation so I had everything a girl could ever want except for the abusive parents. There is a reason to that though, a reason that is imprinted in my brain because they have chanted it over and over again when they dished out the beatings. It is because I killed my brother and their only son. I don’t think that was true though as we had been kidnapped and there was nothing I could have done with my hands and feet bound. 

I could not fight the big scary men that had taken us. I could hardly remember the whole thing after the blow to my head. My parents had blamed me for the whole thing though, they said that I should have been the one to die. The abuse had started then and at the time I had been mourning the death of my brother, my eight year old brain had been confused at first as my parents had although not being loving towards me they had not been harsh either. 

I had truly believed that I had killed my brother and my parents had made sure that I would wish over and over that it had been me that night instead of my brother. I still have nightmares of that night, my brother’s screams and my own screams mixed with the sound of my parents' taunting voice. 

Of course I have other nightmares but those are the ones that leave me the most scared. Thankfully I have dreamless nights when I faint from pain so I am well rested in the morning otherwise I would not have any energy left for school and not going to school means that I would have to stay at home which could mean that I could risk my parents wrath. 

I lifted myself from the bed and headed towards the bathroom. I had to wear baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie so that it wouldn’t be uncomfortable on my sore body. When I went downstairs I saw my parents which was a rare occurrence since my parents would have usually already headed to work by the time I got ready for school. My father ignored me like I wasn’t there but my mother looked at me like I was an insect. She looked at me and said “I must have extreme bad luck that I have to see you every morning. It ruins my appetite. Let's go honey, I don't want to stay here any longer than I should.” My father got up and they both left . I sighed in relief that they had mostly left me alone.  

I didn’t have breakfast as that is one of the things that I could control. I controlled my intake of food and kept it to a bare minimum just enough that I could sustain myself. I did it because it helped me keep the illusion that I could at least control something in my life. My parents of course didn’t care. 

I walked to my car which was one of the things that my parents gave me that I was grateful for. It is a Bugatti Veyron and is a sweet ride. I can drive however fast and reckless I want as the police daren’t stop it after seeing my licence since it is a specially made licence exclusively for my family. 

I like the rush of adrenaline that comes with speed so I drive as recklessly as possible and also because there is a small chance that I could get rid of this life but that sadly seems to be out of question since I am a damn good driver. I finally reached my high school and parked in my destined parking space. 

I got out of my car and started walking to class. The students who saw me ignored me and didn’t even glance my way but it was okay for me. I was used to it. It wasn’t like they bullied me or anything since I had powerful parents so they just left me alone which I was grateful for although they had tried to talk to me at first but had given up when I told them that I was not interested in talking to them. 

I didn’t want their friendship since it was all fake anyways, they didn’t want the friendship just the connection and benefits that came from being on good terms with my family. I could clearly see the greediness in their eyes. I was lost in my own world when suddenly I collided with a hard surface and tilted forward. I cursed, it was just my luck  that I fell just after I got a beating but just as I closed my eyes, someone stopped me from falling by holding my waist. 

I winced when they touched my bruised body and looked up to see the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen in my life, no seriously he looked like a freaking greek god or something. He was impossibly tall around six four, so much taller than my five three frame. His tight black t-shirt clung to his delicious toned body and his pants showcased his long legs and his face god his face was all hard edges, when I looked at his eyes I gasped  he had beautiful emerald eyes which were staring intensely at me. 

I finally realised that I was just standing there checking him out and the embarrassment hit me. “Are you okay?” he asked and of course his voice was gravelly and rough, couldn’t he have a girly squeaky voice? I just stood there gaping at him when he repeated himself. I finally squeaked out that I was fine and ran away.