Page 29 of Fractured Souls
Tabby comes down and uncuffs me. “Mommy wants you upstairs,” she sneers, looking at me like I am trash.
I rasp out, “Do you really think what they are doing to me is okay?”
Tabby laughs, and just like her mother, it's an evil cackle. “You have no idea what I think. Nor will you ever. You are trash. I am not. I get a nice big stack of cash for helping Mommy and not saying anything.” She turns and goes back upstairs.
Well, at least that answers that question. Although, I don't think I could be paid any amount of money to turn a blind eye to something like this. But then again, it's me down here. Not her.
I try to stand, but the pain is so excruciating as it shoots through my body that it has me wobbling on my feet. I grab the wall to steady myself, then limp towards the stairs and take as deep of a breath as I can. I very slowly work my way up. Everything hurts, and it feels like the pain gets worse with each step.
By the time I make it to the top, I am sweating and breathing hard. Tabby is waiting for me. “It's about damn time, you lazy bitch.” She walks off towards the dining room, and I slowly follow her.
Mother, Father, and Tabby are all sitting at the table with a feast of food in front of them. My mouth waters and my stomach grumbles at the smell. I don't even know the last time I ate.
Mother points the spot along the wall she always wants me to stand at whenever she has me come in here. I slowly go over and lean against the wall, trying not to breathe through my nose. I don't want to smell all this food I know I won't get to eat.
They all start eating, and about halfway through their dinner, Mother looks at me. “I am sending you back to school tomorrow.” Something flashes in her eyes, almost like she doesn't want to let me go back. But it passes so quickly that I am not even sure I saw it. “You will keep your goddamn mouth shut this time. Things can get a lot worse if you don't. Next time, you won't get off so easily. I will starve you for weeks.”
She stands and walks towards me. I try to swallow over the lump in my throat.
“Make you stand in here for every meal as we eat, make you stand still while in pain from me breaking your ribs.” She runs a hand across my stomach over my ribs, and I try not to flinch. “And if you move even one tiny bit, I'll tase you. It would be quite entertaining for me.”
She smiles, a deranged, fucked-up smile. She raises her other hand and then quickly shoves me into the wall, pushing on my ribs.
I cry out involuntarily; the pain is too much for me to stay quiet. I fight the tears that try to come, but I don't win this time. They fall. Mother’s smile spreads wider at the sight of my tears. Then she turns serious, pushing harder until it's hard to even suck in a breath. “Do we understand each other? If not, I can always give you another lesson until you get the message.”
I nod my head and try to rasp out on a panted breath, “I un… under… stand.”
She stares at me, the look in her eyes even more terrifying than what she can do with her hands to me. She nods and then lets go and walks back to the table. “You'll stand there until we are done, then clean up the mess. You will get a can tomorrow. I think until you learn to keep your mouth shut, we will go down to one can a day instead of my generous two cans.”
They take their time eating, dragging it out for almost an hour. My stomach grumbles the entire time. I have felt hunger before, but having to watch them eat is a new level of torment.
When they are done, Mother and Tabby leave, but Father stays to watch me so I can't even try to eat some of their leftovers. I feel his eyes searing into me the entire time I move around the kitchen and dining room. He just sits back in his chair with arms folded over his chest and his eyes trained on me.
My body stays tense, which isn’t helping the aches and pain I feel from being hurt. My mind keeps flashing back to the basement, when Father had come down and touched me. The way his hands felt like someone branding me with a hot iron at every sick caress… I never want to experience that again. I always thought he just watched me to watch, but now I feel like he is staring at my body. It makes me want to cower in a corner and cover myself.
My stomach grumbles at me again as I grab the last few dishes that still have food on them. A part of my brain is telling me to just stuff the food in my mouth. I may get beat, but they can’t take away the food I would’ve eaten.
I shake myself of those thoughts. My body could not handle another beating right now, and with Father being the only one in the room, he would probably touch me, and that thought alone makes starving sound like a fantastic idea.
I clean the counters up and then head back downstairs. Father follows behind me to cuff me back up. He leaves a few medical bandages next to me, then turns around and walks back upstairs. He usually is more talkative or leering at me. Instead, this time he kept his head down, barely even looking at me. It was like this time he couldn't get away fast enough. Not that I mind.
I feel like I could be sick to my stomach after that. I slowly make my way to the bathroom and rinse my mouth with water from the sink, but it doesn't help. Next thing I know, I am on the floor, dry heaving into the toilet. There is nothing in my stomach for me to even hurl, but the need to vomit is making me heave over and over again as tears stream down my face.
The way that she acted makes me think that things can and will get so much worse. Who even is this Noah person? Is that who was here Friday? I fucking hate that I can’t ever do good enough, that no matter what they find something to blame me for.
I have never seen the look in her eyes that I did upstairs. She has always looked at me with hatred, like I did something to her or ruined her life, but this was so much worse than that, this was like she was wishing she could kill me. She very well might one day… Would I even care? At first, probably not. But now? I want to get out of here. Find answers. Do something, anything.
The whole world isn’t this bad. I know that. Mother is suspicious and has a lot of things going on that she obviously doesn’t tell me about.
Let’s just hope those things stop her from trying to kill me anytime soon.
I lay down for a few hours, trying to rest my aching body, and then decide to get up and clean myself up. I peel my shirt and leggings off. They were stuck to me because of the blood from all my cuts. I shower very slowly, and by the time I am done, tears are streaming down my face from the pain. I'm breathing hard and feel like I might pass out. I quickly pull on a new hoodie then lay down, refusing to put back on the dirty underwear and leggings I had on. I hate going without, but I can't put anything new on with the cuff.
I've been laying here, numb, for hours. I very slowly sit up and rest my back against the wall. It's like there are so many things running through my head that I can't process, so instead I am numb to it all.
I try to take some deep breaths, remembering what Grayson told me about panic attacks. He also told me I have people. But do I? I have no idea who I can and can't trust. I also missed some school, so I have no idea if he got my note or not. The only person I can truly depend on is myself. Which means I have to get myself out here, and luckily with school, I just might be able to.
It's a huge fucking risk. If I don't make it or get caught, I am risking worse punishments. But is that fear strong enough to stay stuck and probably never get out? I can't let it be.
