Save Me From the Dark (3 page)

There wasn’t time to reply. The sound of the locking clicking open fills my ears and chest with panic. Switching off the monitor, I pretend like I’m working on homework. Looking up at him as he walks into my room, he takes slow purposeful steps. Suddenly my chair is flipping backwards and my head hits the floor with a loud thump. Pain shoots through me like never before. He steps on my chest and pushes down hard. The air is forced from my lungs. My father smacks me again and again. Fighting like hell to keep my tears at bay. When I cry, it only makes him angrier than he was when he entered my room. Not sure what happened next because everything dims and then goes black after he hit me upside the head with one of my school books.

Bella

Waking sometime later, the room is dark. How many times have I woke to not know how much time had passed? Pulling my sore body up off the floor, I grab my phone and see that it is eleven at night. Six hours have come and gone that I don’t get back. One day, that’s what I keep telling myself. One day, I’ll get out from under the scornful hand of my father and be free. Free to do as I want. Stumbling into the bathroom, I give a cynical laugh at myself. Who am I kidding? I’m never making it out of here. Hell, it’s what I deserve.

Once I take my shower, I head back to my desk. My homework still laid here unfinished. Thankfully, my hair – I’ll have to do a swoop bang to cover my eye – and clothes will hide the marks left from tonight’s beating. I can go to school tomorrow. I hate hiding everything, but no one will believe my father could do anything like this to me. Everyone still feels sorry for him for losing my mother. He still plays it for attention, too.

Everyone feels so sorry for him, but no one even sees me in the mix. How many women have I seen come into this house? How many nights have I heard their noises? Yeah, my father is so heartbroken over my mom, but sleeps with every Tammy, Danielle, or Harriet that comes along. It is disgusting. My mother is being dragged through the dirt by this man that
claims
he loves her so much.

Shaking my head, I focus on my schoolwork. It is important to me that I achieve my perfect grades so I can get into the best school and away from this hell I live in. Still unsure on how I am going to get the whole college thing squared away, but I’ll figure it out somehow. No one deserves to go through what I’m going through. No one, not even me… right?

It is about two in the morning when I finish all my homework. Placing everything back in my book bag, I turn my monitor on to shut down my computer. There is a message left from AJ that astounds me.

AJ:
You haven’t replied and that has me worried. If what I said offended you…well I can’t apologize for it. I meant every word I said. As time passes, I don’t think about the fact that I haven’t seen your face. I don’t need to. I’ve seen your heart. For me, that’s all I need to see. I miss you already and hope to hear from you soon. Hugs, AJ

It is still unbelievable to me that there’s someone out there that cares about me like that. Am I reading too much into his words? Maybe he’s not meaning it in the romantic sense like I so badly want to take it as. Sighing, I type out a reply.

Bella:
I’m sorry I didn’t reply sooner. My dad came in and I was side tracked before I knew it was eleven. I had to get my homework done, just turned on my monitor to shut it down and saw you wrote. To be honest with you, I’m not sure how to take your messages. I don’t mean that rude either. I just don’t want to hope for something that isn’t there. I’ve been let down too much already. I don’t want to be again…especially not by you. Goodnight, AJ. Hugs, Bella

Just as I hit sign out, he wrote, but it was too late to see it. I will just read it tomorrow. I’m tired and I need at least a few hours of sleep. Climbing into bed, I look up at my picture of Ace. For the first time, I wish I knew what AJ looks like. My dreams would be much better with his face rather than the face of a man that doesn’t even know I exist. Closing my eyes, I fall into a restless sleep.

The morning arrives far too early for my liking today. I am just in a foul mood. Climbing in the shower, I need to get the dried blood from my hair. Once I’m dressed, I head downstairs to the kitchen. Shocked to find my father still awake, I scream in fright.

“What are you coming into my kitchen for?” He hisses.

“I was getting breakfast,” I say nervously.

He throws a banana at me. “There’s your breakfast now get out.”

Taking what I can get, as usual, I run out the door to my car. Once I’m a little bit away, I check my wallet to see how much money I have. No, I can’t spend it on food. I need to look presentable for the concert and I don’t have much money.

For money, I write papers for kids at school. Of course, they don’t know it’s me. At the beginning of every school year, I put flyers into lockers with instructions. It may not be the best way to earn money, helping others cheat, but it’s the only way I can. If I didn’t do this, I’d have no shampoo, soap, clothes, nothing. My father certainly never got anything for me.

Arriving at school, I brace myself for the day I’m about to have. Seeing my father so early in the morning could only mean bad news for the day. Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I clutch my planner to my chest, and keep my head down as I head inside.

I rarely use my locker. Frankly, it’s a safety mechanism for me. If I need to leave quickly, stopping at my locker to get my things is unnecessary time to take. My locker holds all my extra school supplies for the year. Today, I have to stop at my locker to get a couple of notebooks.

Just as I reach in to grab them, the locker door is pushed shut on my hand. I cry out and drop my planner to the floor. Bending down to collect my planner, the locker door hits me in the head. Biting my lower lip, I grab my planner then grab my notebooks closing my locker and turn to leave.

I head to the bathroom to see if there are any visible marks. Looking at my reflection only breaks me a little more. There is a lump already forming on the left side of my forehead, partly in the hairline. A little blood trickles down from the knot there. Reaching for some paper towels, I dab away the blood. Digging in my backpack, I pull out some Neosporin and a Band-Aid. Sadly, I carry a whole first aid kit in my book bag because
accidents
like this happen more often than I like them too. Dressing the cut, I begin to look at my hand. The purple hue that it is already taking on makes me wonder if they actually broke something. Testing my fingers and making a fist, though painful, I can tell nothing is broken.

I may not be a doctor, but I have had more injuries than one person should ever endure, that I’m familiar with the signs. Walking into one of the stalls, I sit on the toilet and let the silent tears fall. Everything was getting to me more and more. Every day, I deal with their taunts, abuse, shunning, but lately – since I met AJ – it’s been hitting home more how alone I am. It never bothered me before now. Then again, I’ve never had someone that seems to genuinely care about me. It is because of that attention that I realize exactly how far I’ve fallen. There is no picking me back up. Why should I? Just to keep giving them a target to shoot?

Pulling myself together, I walk out of the bathroom and start toward my first class. I’m babying my hand a little, but it’ll get better. They always do. I think what bothers me most about the abuse at school is that it doesn’t just come from the students. The teachers – some of the teachers – are the same way. Even the ones that don’t dish it out are just as guilty as the ones that do because no one does anything to stop it. One teacher even said to me that I’m taking focus off other kids. That is the reasoning behind not stopping it. I gave up hope a long time ago that someone would stop it all. That is like believing in the tooth fairy or winning the lottery.

Mr. Angler has already began teaching when I walk into the room. He stops mid-sentence and stares at me as I walk to my seat on the far wall by the window.

“Well, Ms. Careless, I thought we were breathing easier today. So, again, class, here is what assume means. It makes an
ass
out of yo
u
and
me
.” The class laughs and Mr. Angler smiles at his own joke.

Keeping my head down, I pull out my notebook to write down notes. Half way through Sociology, I’m called to the office. Fear lances through me like a sharp knife to a blade of grass. Collecting my belongings, I head out of the class. As scared as I am for why I am being called to the office, I am also relieved to leave the class. Today everything is getting to me and I don’t like it.

Walking into the office, I have to work hard to keep my feet moving. My father stands in the office with his hands in his pocket talking with the secretary. When the door clinks shut, he looks up at me. The disgust in his eyes is obvious before he plants on a smile he doesn’t mean and walks over to me.

“How’s my girl today?”

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“We’re going away for the week. They’re bringing in your work in a few minutes.”

Forcing a smile on my face, “Great,” I say as light as I can manage through the terror that I know I’m about to face.

Once my work is brought in, he guides me out of the office and out the front doors. When we are standing next to his car, he squeezes the back of my neck hard. Sucking in a breath, I wait for the threat that always follows the physical pain.

“Get in your car, drive directly home, and go straight to your room. I’ll be there in an hour.”

Pushing me forward, I walk to my car. With shaking hands, I unlock the door and climb in placing my bag and planner in the seat next to me. As I drive toward my definite beating, I try to contemplate what might have caused this weeklong torture. Nothing is coming to mind though. I’m always careful about everything I do. Maybe it’s getting caught going into the kitchen this morning. I’ll have to be extra careful from now on if that’s what it is.

Hurrying to my room once I arrive, I shut the door. There is nothing I can do to prepare myself for what’s to come, so I do my normal thing. I start up my computer, pull out my books and start looking over my list of assignments. It is only when my messenger loads that I remember that AJ had written back as I was signing out.

AJ:
Bella, you can’t read more than what I have written there. I will not be a person that lets you down…as much as I can help it anyway. I can’t promise I’ll not ever make a mistake because I’m human we all make them, but I can tell you that if I tell you something…then I mean it. I meant what I said (and haven’t said). You mean a lot to me, a lot more than I thought you would in the beginning. I’m here for you. Don’t shut me out.

Bella:
Please stop. No good has ever come to my life. I can’t start believing it has now. I can’t. Since meeting you, all the things I’ve worked so hard to steel myself against hits home now. I can’t let the sadness, the loneliness in AJ. If I do that…If I let it all in…I’ll lose the fight.

I hurry and hit send before I talk myself out of it. Tears course down my face. Everything that I have laid out before me is blurring in my sight now.
What am I going to do?
Walking away means a void – like I’ve never known before – will fill my soul. He’s become that important to me. Staying…staying means more
vacations
with daddy dearest.

AJ:
Bella, please don’t talk like that. You make it sound like you are fighting to stay alive. Life is tough, but when good comes in…it doesn’t seem so tough. Don’t walk away because you’re afraid of what is happening. Walk to me, Bella. Let’s see what we have.

Bella:
Like you told me earlier, you can’t read more than what is there. I’m trying, AJ. I am. I’m just not sure I’m strong enough for the battle ahead of me. If you knew…I just don’t know if I can continue on like this…

Just as I hit send, the windows rattle from the slamming of the front door. I quickly shut the monitor off and then start on the first book I pull off the stack. Not really paying attention to what I’m reading, just trying to make it look like I’ve been doing my homework the whole time.

The door bangs off the wall making it hit him as he walks in. He stops next to my chair and I wait for the smack. It is as if I could hear the ticking of the clock inside my head. Each second that passes and nothing happens sends a greater fear through me than ever before.

“Get up,” he barks.

Stumbling a bit, I stand on shaking legs in front of him. My heart is beating so fast that I swear you can see the thickened flood of blood that poured through my veins. I teeter back and forth a bit as the nerves take hold of me.

“Look at me,” he growls darkly.

Taking a deep breath, I look up at him and see a box in his hand. I don’t get the chance to read what was on it because he throws it in my face, knocking me on the floor. He kicks the box across the room, kneels down on my chest and repeatedly punches me in the face. My body sags limply. I stop fighting. The weight on my chest lifts and the door slams a few seconds later. I lay there and cry. The tears mix with the blood on my face hiding their presence. I cry until I pass out from the pain.