Page 1 of My Dark Obsession
One
‘Limbo-Limbus’
Amaya.
Crack
That was definitely my ribs; the pain penetrating my lungs had me gasping out in utter agony. Sucking in a deep breath from the pain, I spat out thick liquid as a coppery taste filled my already bruised mouth.
I was choking on my own blood.
This wasn’t good.
The heavy pound of his fists wracked my body as I tried to concentrate on getting air into my struggling airways. I slipped on the blood-soaked concrete and fell to my side cringing as a grunt slipped out after landing on my damaged ribs. The white-hot burn was now a sure sign of my lungs being impaled further.
Thisreally wasn’t good.
The blows still continued with his punishing hits.
How long had he been at this now? Minutes? Hours? I’m pretty sure I kept blacking out, so I couldn’t be sure.
I spat another mouthful of foamy blood to the floor; my head was thrown back and slammed to the dirty ground with an audible thump. Stars burst to life behind my closed eyes.
That fucking hurt.
“Disgusting, vile—” my head was pulled back with force by my hair, the sting making my eyes water as he spat in my face.
And he called me vile.
“-You’re. Unable. To do. Anything. Right!” Each word was said with either a slap to the face or a kick to the stomach.
Breathing was now practically impossible. But hey, who needed to breathe when you were about to die anyway? Because that’s where this was going; he had never been this angry before. He would have usually worn himself out by now.
The day hadn’t even been that bad, not the worst anyway! I mean yeah sure I forgot to pre-heat the coffee pot, which okay, led to me being late to drop the twins off because I was limping from the small beating I then received. Which led to me being late to my first class of the day, History with Ms Roberts. She took great delight in informing the class that the reason I was late and didn’t have the essay to hand in was because I had a ‘slow brain’.
Yup, that’s right the entire town of Bluewater Valley thought I was slow. Like mentally. I mean I very well could have been after all the hits to the head I receiveddaily, but I think it was just a way for them to ignore the fact I lived with an abusive foster father and a set of random twins.
I wasn’t stupid; I just wasn’t like them. I could give you detailed instructions of how to slice open a human’s skin and retract each bone before they bled out and died. I could read an eight-hundred-page book on true crime in half a day and still go on to read a fantasy book on fairy tales and its lore. But apparently that made me sick, psychotic and potentially a serial killer in the making according to the internet.
Not that I care what they thought of me, as I had detached myself from that town and life a very long time ago.
People were like slugs, slowly sliding their way through life full of lies, sludge and sickness and waiting for the escape of death.
I thought the day was going to be like any other with my usual beatings and his drunken slurs thrown at me before bed but nope, after picking the twins up we walked through the door to find Lyal, our foster father, and Ms Roberts sans clothes on the couch.
Turns out her threatening to call my, gag, ‘Father’ about my tardiness was something else entirely.
Thinking about it made me heave more.
And that’s how I ended up on the basement floor concerned for my life for once but still, he was definitely angrier than normal.
More blood filled my airways and had me choking.
It had started to become difficult to get a decent breath in.
I looked over to my usual spot, the dripping pipe that had started to turn green from the years of leaking. It had become my focusing point during those regular beatings.
I just had to get through this. It was going to be the last time I let him put his hands on me. Once midnight hit, I was eighteen and we were free.
