Page 84 of Exile
"Don't… please, don't," I beg desperately, pressing myself flat against the wall behind me. Dad lets out an ill-tempered shout before grabbing a fistful of my hair and slamming me face first into the ground.
A pained squeak forces its way past my vocal restraint as my hands and knees land heavily on the broken shards of glass.
Part of me wants to call for help. I stopped screaming for help a long time ago. No one ever came. And all it did was make him more upset.
"Shut up!" He roars, spit flying into my face as his fist connects with my jaw. "Shut the fuck up, Avery!"
How? How do I make it stop?
I curl into a ball as I try to shield myself from him, but that just rewards me with a kick into my stomach.
How?
There's no humanly way to stop the pained cry that slips out, no amount of strength I can muster. It still hurts so much from last week. The bruises on my lower abdomen and thighs are starting to turn that sickly shade of yellow instead of black, but everything still screams in agony.
The doctors at the hospital said it would take weeks before I fully healed. I know they were talking about the bruises and internal damage because I'll never emotionally heal from this—never recover from what he let his friend do to me.
I screamed so much that night that I lost my voice. I blame myself. If I hadn't been so loud, struggled so much, maybe it wouldn't have hurt like this.
All I remember is there were tiny little dots on the hospital ceiling. I counted them, one by one. The doctor treating me said something about reproductive scarring and inflammation but it sounded like a voice in a thick blanket of fog.
I'll likely never bear children now. Not that I'd ever condemn someone into my life, but still…
He stole it from me, and all Dad did was watch TV in the other room, completely unbothered. The volume kept increasing, the only sign that he could even hear my screams.
The doctors tried to make me feel better by telling me that at least I'll be able to have sex again—probably without pain. That alone made me feel sick because I'll never let anyone fucking touch me again. He stole my virginity, he stole my womanhood. No one will ever steal from me again. I'd rather be dead.
More pain erupts from my scalp as I'm dragged across the floor. But luck must finally find me because suddenly, he lets me go with a drop, trudging over to his cell phone to answera call.
I block out the conversation, doing my best to stay completely still, hoping I'm now a forgotten afterthought. Footsteps move toward me and I whimper, the stench of beer hitting me in the face.
"I'm meeting Marty at the tavern. Do something useful and clean this fucking shit up. Or maybe I'll just bring him here again…"
My body trembles violently at the threat, not at all stopping even as the front door slams closed and I hear his car take off down the street. He's going to fucking kill someone—if not me, then someone on the road. He doesn't even have a driver's license anymore after multiple DUIs.
That's why Martin drove him back last week… That's how he got into my bedroom while I was asleep.
No. No, no. I can't do it. I can't do it again.
Forcing myself up from the floor, I scan the living room slowly, taking in all the mess. Once upon a time there were some better memories here, but I don't remember them anymore. Did they ever really exist? I can't be sure.
This house holds more tears than an airport, more pain than a hospital. Trauma is etched into the walls, my screams embedded in plaster. There's still permanent marks from where Mom killed herself to escape and I found her lifeless, blue body.
I never understood. Why am I not enough forhim? Why wasn't I enough to make her stay?
Why am I justnot enough? I just don't deserve to be loved—by anyone, let alone by more than one person.
A wave of calmness washes over me, my entire body suddenly feeling numb.
It ends now—all of it.
I'm not cut out for this life. I miss my mom. I miss Paige. No one here will miss me, so why even fight?
He's broken me, just like he broke Mom. But I won't let him break anyone else ever again in his house.
I'm going to burn it to the fucking ground. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find my happy ending in the ashes.
** Present Day **
