The first thing I did when I woke up was the same as it always was. I rushed out of bed and passed the front door, opened our dusty old mailbox, and found it empty. With that, I sulked back into the house, grabbed an apple from the kitchen, and passes my mother as i entered my room., shutting the door behind me.
On my bed was the book I fell asleep reading. I picked it up and laid against my pillows. The cover read, "Pride and Prejudice". Since school began again — as it always does this time of year — I lost all interest in going outside, so I had to manage with what I had in my room.
It felt like five years since the last tie a received a letter from Dylan. Ever since school started has not really talked to me much. We've gone a long time without speaking, and i keep praying tat one day I will receive a reply. My parents have tried t get me to go riding, but I always have the same answer for them: "I would much rather be inside where its cooler. Maybe when its a bit nicer outside." And every time they insist that I go out and find something to do. But honestly, I haven't ever found the desire to go anywhere.
Suddenly, the door swung open and i looked up from my book and glanced across the room. My mother was standing at the foot of the entrance and I looked back down at the book again. Without looking up, I asked, "What is it, mother?" "You need to get out of this room RIGHT now!" "I'd much rather stay in here and finish m reading," I answered simply. "Honestly," she began, anger rising in her voice, "I don't care what you want." I didn't need to look up to tell that her temper was rising. "Mom, please let me read this. I haven't finished yet." Finally, she would't argue with me anymore. She stalked across my room to my bed and grabbed my book from my hands. "Hey!" I shouted in protest. "Stop reading that DAMN book!" And she chucked it across the room and it slammed against the wall, knocking down a picture frame. "Mom!" "Get up!"
I wiggled in protest while she grabbed my wrists and pulled me off the bed. "Get up! Get up! You are getting out of this room!" I kicked my legs and grabbed the bed frame. She reached for my reading lamp and knocked it off the desk. I screamed and tried to push her way, but she whipped her arm around and hit me across the face. I sat there for a second and held my cheek, and as I looked at the broken lamp of the floor my eyes began to overflow with wet, salty tears.
Furious and impatient, she grabbed me around my waist and I kicked my arms and legs in protest. Tears ran down my cheeks and she pushed me through the open door. We made our way passed blurred objects and i tried to fight her off. Just then, I thought about how she dragged me into the car, prying me out of Dylan's arms. Distressed and overwelmed in fear, I hadn't noticed her ever-constant ranting. All of my anger faded away as I was drowned in painful memories. The ghosts of my past sucked away all air and I became choked with fear, as if the world were deprived of all oxygen.
My breathes came out unevenly, and i was finding it very hard to breathe. Mad and exhausted, Mother dragged me by the wrist and lead me down the stairs. It was when we reached the kitchen that I noticed the raging pain in my wrist. Looking down through wet eyes, I saw that my hand had turned white and it was loosing it's feeling. That's when I began writhing in pain, begging her to release my wrist.
All of a sudden, she unclenched her hands and I turned to see Daddy pulling her by the shoulders. With the back side of my good hand, I wiped away a tear from my cheek. As soon as I looked at my wrist, I started sobbing and hunching over in pain. I heard the yells of my parents in the hall and my ears began ringing loudly. The yelling stopped after a moment and I gasped for breath, my ears pounding. In the next moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder and rough whiskers brushed against my cheek. I didn't need to look up to know that it was my dad. Instantly, I threw my arms around his neck and cried uncontrollably.
He took me into his arms and carried me over to the couch where he sat there and let me cry for three hours. I woke up later that day, my face sticky from crying, and my dad came in a moment later with a blanket and a bowel of soup.
He sat me down in his lap, gave me the soup, and told me I would sleep in the yard if I spilled on him. Not even his stupid sense of humor could cheer me up. I finished my soup, without spilling a drop, and rested my eyes.
"Dad," I said after laying in silence for a while.
I looked at the wall and said, "I don't want to see her, Dad," he waited for more explanation, "I can't deal with what's going on right now. I can't stay in this house anymore. When I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is walk outside And check our mailbox. Each morning I wake up with a hope that a letter came from Dylan, and every day she ridicules me for that.
"She doesn't understand what she does to me every day," I paused and blinked back tears, "Do you know some nights I cry myself to sleep? I'm sure you don't know that every day for the past six weeks, I've been doubled over in pain. I'm literally in pain, Dad! I pray every night that it will get better, but every day it gets worse..." I took in a long breath.
"For fourteen years I've known in my heart that there is someone who loves me more than anything. I would die for him, search for him all my life. And for fourteen years I've been told to run away from those feelings. Dad, I don't want to run away anymore."
:) this is a part of the book (sincerely yours) I have been piecing together
I hope you liked it and I hope to post more writing later on!