Historia Reiss - p e a c e k e e p e r - done~

The night stains stains my skin with an ebony shade. The slight crack through the closed doors shine a blinding light upon my features as the stirring outside continues. My heart rattles within my chest, causing such a ruckus within my ears I feared it would give away my location. I dare not breathe, the air trapped in my lungs beginning to ache yet their lumbering footsteps are thunder right outside my hiding place. I could not let them find me. THey'd hurt me again. Harsh hands striking my skin as I cried out in pain, my pleas only causing them to hit harder. 

A silent tear rolls down my cheek as their shouts grow more aggravated. "You little whore! Get your ass out here!" That was father's voice. It's slurred, whether from the booze or rage is lost on me. Mother is far more aggressive, digging through piles of clothes with haste. I could almost see the fury rise off of her skin in a steam as she searched for her daughter. Please no more. I can hear the desperation, even in a voice trapped inside my skull. My hands are wrapped desperately around the brass knobs, pulling it closed as tightly as my 10 year's strength would let me. 

I can only hope that they do not notice the door. In their... intoxication, their furious rage, they forget to check the most obvious of hiding spots. That I will be spared for one more night. A sob threatens to break free of my throat, to resonate in the silence around me and to give up my position. My head begins to grow lighter. My lungs feel as though they are about to burst, the air having long expired within them, 

And it escapes. The messy, wet intake of breath ringing throughout the room. They heard me. All is silent as my parents realize where I have been hiding. I tug at the doors desperately, attempting to keep them from opening it. To keep the monsters away. It was all in vain. My father's large hands wrap around my body, throwing me against the bed with vehement rage. "You'll get it now you little bitch!"- 

~

I sit straight up in bed, the ivory sheets twisted around my arms and legs. A dark crimson stains them where nails have broken my skin with anxious strokes. Long fingers rake through my scalp, pushing the golden mane out of my face. Sweat runs down my temple, my breath coming in desperate gasps. Just a dream. I sigh in relief, chewing my lip as my heart slowed. 

Finally having worked up the courage to move, my feet meet carpeted ground. Pulling back the stained sheet, it is soon waded against the apartment wall. It must have been late, sleep didn't come easily to me these days. No use trying to sleep now. I muse, the hairs on the back of my neck rising as I rush into the bathroom. 

Golden light soon surrounds me, the alabaster tiles almost blinding in the sudden rush illumination. My hands brace the  sink as my gaze finds the mirror. White streaks line my face, my nails having left the trails after my terror. The eyes set just below my brow are dark tonight, resembling much more of a storm than their usual foaming green. 

Bones protrude from the center of my chest, making its way along my shoulders and down my chest. Muscles carefully crafted by my training define themselves against the hard material. I soon lift the shirt I had worn that night over my head, draping it over the mirror as I take off the rest of my sleeping garments. Slender feet stick to the tile as my naked skin rests against a porcelain tub, turning the plastic tap to the hot setting. 

My feet dance playfully across the scalding water building in volume as the faucet slowly dispenses it. I eventually lowered my body into the water, my raw skin stinging as my muscles relax. I try to hide my body, even as no one but I occupied the area. My knees rise above the water, the peach colored skin becoming more of an irritated pink the longer I stayed in the water. I pay no mind, my head resting upon my knees. 

I am hollow. As hollow as one could be. Hollow in regards to myself. I care not for my own well meaning, I care not for what happens to me. Any regard for myself was long beaten out of me by my parents hands. They taught that I am nothing more than a disappointment. How desperately I want to be more than that. 

My heart only has room for others, and I would do anything for them. I want them to see that I am honorable, that I am worth something to them. Yet  I am quiet, even scared. As lost as a kitten without its mother, I simply don't know how to react to some situations. And what is the point to answer in a way that could make others look down upon me. Isn't it better not to say anything? 

Should I end it all? The nightmares that so cruelly take sleep from me. The pressure of always having to impress others. The expectations I hold for myself, so high I know that I will never achieve it. One day, can I end it all? To make sure that my death is of my own choosing. 

Would that make me a coward?

~
By the time I lift myself from the water, my skin resembled that of a deflated balloon. I let the water drain of its own accord as I wandered about my apartment. The light still hasn't risen above the horizon. It doesn't much matter, as I am sure only a few hours remain before I must leave. The captain expects nothing less than perfection and I must provide. 

Failure is never an option.