Page 3 of Beautifully Wounded

“Shit. Come on. Come on,” I whisper-cry to myself, before repeating the process and inducing more vomiting.

Again, I heave, purging more of my stomach contents, and this time, one pill comes up too.

“Yes.” I quietly celebrate and yeah, I know how utterly crazy it is for me to be cheering myself on for hurling. I hate doing it. It’s horrid, yet right now, it’s what might save me.

I try again to induce more vomiting, and after three attempts with little results, I know the second pill isn’t coming up.

Dammit.

I don’t know what drug it is, but my parents have done this before, when they told me I would be spending the long weekend with Daniel and his family at their holiday house. They did it again for New Year’s Eve, knowing I’d do anything not to be alone with that monster.

Last time, the two pills made me lethargic and eventually knocked me out for the night, and in the morning, as I woke, still affected by the drugs in my system, my mum shoved another pill down my throat, my body too lethargic to fight her off.

By the time Daniel and his family arrived to pick me up, my steps were heavy, my speech was slurred, and my eyes lazy, drifting shut on their own accord.

They controlled me those nights so I’d comply the next morning, and they are trying to do the same thing now.

I plan on giving them a very rude shock when they come to re-drug me in the morning.

Even as I think it, I can feel an unwelcome lightness washing over me.

Dammit. The pill still inside my gut is starting to work.

Slowly, I start crawling across my carpet towards my window where large shards of glass remain scattered.

A soft manic giggle rumbles in my chest as I realise the irony of this situation.

My parents removed all sharp objects from my bedroom last year when they feared I’d use them to harm myself.

Not gonna lie. I thought about it.

So why now, have they left me with hundreds of sharp splintered shards at my disposal?

Are they just dumb, or will they be back to clean it up?

Knowing it’s likely they’ll be back, I quickly snatch up a large shard that’s big enough to grip, and long enough to do real damage and I hide it under my mattress.

Never have I wanted my mum to come back into my bedroom more than in this moment.

She’d never expect me to really hurt her, which is exactly how I’m going to escape, even if I have to kill her.

2

The house is dark. From outside, nothing looks amiss, just like the other houseson the street. It makes me wonder what goes on inside all the other houses, or if it’s just this one.

“You ready to do this?” JD sidles up next to me, taking one last drag on his dart before dropping it to the path and stubbing it out with his booted toe.

“Yep,” I respond, watching to make sure he does the right fucking thing, which, of course, he does.

Bending to pick up the remains of his cigarette, he shoves it in his zip pocket inside his jacket, making sure to remove any evidence that can be linked to us.

“No names.” Trunk grunts, as if we need to be reminded, but we all nod anyway.

“The mum van is ready to go,” Jols states, shooting me a smile and I nod, fucking glad she’s in Fox Pines with us tonight. Having achick with us may come in handy, given what we’re about to do.

“Stocky, you stay out here and look for signs of any witnesses,” I gesture to the big guy, who nods, his expression serious and already on task. “Murf, I want you on the dad. Trunk, you take the mum.” When they nod, I glance at the only female in our crew. “Jols, I want you on the sisters’ bedroom. If our information is right, they are in the same room tonight and one will be passed out, but the other won’t be expecting us. If she hears a female voice, she may not panic as much.”

Jols nods, her gaze shifting to the house.

---