Things Would Be Different from Now On.

(Picture credits: creativemarket.com)

 I winched in pain as the salty sea breeze blew past my face. I held up my hand against my face to protect my bruises from getting any worse. My baggy clothes flapped in the wind, my baggy clothes that hid all the pain, I was going to from the rest of the world.

I reached my apartment, and hesitated from opening the door hoping my father wont be at home. Luck had never been on my side why would it change now.  As I slowly open the door, I was greeted by the familiar alcohol smell that I came home to everyday to. My father was definitely home and I prepared myself for the worse. I tiptoed to my room trying to not to let him know that I am home but it was no use. Just as I twisted my door handle to my room I felt myself being shaft to the floor, and felt limp into my room. My father struck a blow to my face.

“Why are you back so late, huh?” There is work to do. “Why should I do everything for you? You are the reason why your mother died.” With that he slammed the door shut leaving me lifeless on the floor. I will get a a new bruise every single day, without out fail from my father, from school, or even both.

I woke up the next day to the pain of new bruise across my left cheek. I look at the clock that was lying beside me and – 7.15 a.m. I panicked. School starts in fifteen minutes. I got up, grabbed my bag, quickly covered the bruise on my face with some make-up, like I did everyday, and went to school. It was just a matter of time before my legs gave way.  I was weak from not eating for days. It wasn’t like I had a choice. I picked myself up and made it to school just in time for the first class of the day.

I opened my bag and took out my books, when I saw another book in my bag that wasn’t mine. I was about to take out the book when I saw a familiar figure walking towards me – Mike.

“Did you do my homework?” that was when it all came back to me. I forgotten to do his homework. I had forgotten to do his homework, I was in a big trouble. I handed him his book from my bag. “Yeah,” I said. He snatched from my hand and went back to his seat.

                                                                  ***

I tried to exist the class as quick as I could, and stay out of his side, but I was too slow. I felt my head being hit on the wall. “What makes you think you can do that ?!” He shouted into my ear, “make me get in trouble in front of the whole class, and lie about it.”  Punched my stomach. “You are going to pay for this.”

And with that, he struck me across the face, in the exact same place my father did. I felt a warm, thick droplet of something trickle down my cheek. Blood. That was my limit. I pushed him away from me. “Why!” I yelled, “Why would you do this to me? What did I ever do to you? I followed everything you told me to do. If you ask me to go away, I do. If you ask me to do your work, I do. Even you want to beat me up, I let you do it! I am abused at home for no reason, I am abused in school for no reason. Why does my life have to like this?!”

He was frozen on the spot. He definitely did not expect this. I ran out of the school, faster than I ever had in years. I enjoyed it. It would be the last time I ever ran like this, last time I would see this sidewalk, the trees. I hope others would change, I hope all my life, but it never is going to happen. I had no choice but to change myself. It is not like anyone would miss me.

Mike’s point of view:

What did I do? How could I have done this to her? I was blinded by my own pain and anger towards my step parents, and how they treated me, I didn’t stop think how she would feel. What she was going through. It was all my fault.

I ran out of school to look for her. I didn’t care about what classes I missed. I had already done so much wrong, I should at least do something to help someone other than myself for a change. I ran past the sidewalks, oak trees, and the rusted metal benches. Wait – the benches. I would always see her seating at those benches, staring at the trees. I ran through the park, looking for any sign of her. It was then I saw her, her head drooped down. Was she asleep? I went towards her, shouting her name. She didn’t look up. I shook her, but she still didn’t look up. I felt something red and sticky on my hand. Blood. I turn over her wrist and saw slits on it. What have I done?

I picked her up and rushed her to the nurse’s office. She was so light and skinny. I felt another pang of guilt.

                                                                            ***  

“How is she?” I asked the nurse. She could have died because of me. “She’s fine.” she said, “Lots of bruises, underweight, cut, but alive.” I felt relieved through me. “Can I see her?” I asked. “Sure,” she said. I nodded and entered the room. I saw Jessica lying on the bed. Her eyes open in panic when she saw me. I understood. After all I had done, she had the right to feel that. She tried to get up, but she couldn’t. “P-please don’t hit – hurt me,” she whimpered.

“No,I won’t hurt you. I am sorry for what I did. I was to hurt by my step parents, like what your father did to you, I took out my anger on you. I am so sorry. I can help you. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me, but no matter what, I will protect to you. I will keep you safe. I will never let anyone hurt you again.”

Jessica’s point of view:

I smiled. It looks like people do change. “I forgive you,” I told him, “right now, I will take all the help I can get.”

I knew things would be different from now on.