~Summit - (Meet Me There) - [Kiah]
Feb 18, 2012 20:28:01 GMT -5
Post by arx!! on Feb 18, 2012 20:28:01 GMT -5
--- Aryn Jacckson ---
I can't remember.
No matter how hard I try, I can't remember what happened last night. All I can manage to figure out is that I must've had another nervous breakdown because my cheeks are clawed and my hair is still full of sand. I sit in my bed, trying to piece together recent events from just 12 hours or so prior but nothing comes to mind. I can infer that I must've brought home enough alcohol to knock my dad out for the rest of the day because I have no new needle puntures in my wrists and no new bruises on my wrists or face. Despite not havnig had to deal with my father through the night, my head still pounds with pain. All I can do is sit in my bed clenching my head, willing the pain to go away or at least dull to just a small throb before my dad awakens from his drunken stupor.
My head whirls with flashes of things, but I still can't make sense of any of it. I find that I can't even rmember if I went surfing yesterday or not. What happened to me yesterday? I know that I am supposed to be at school today, but I can't bring myself to my feet and I have the feeling that even if I could they wouldn't carry me to the school. I lift my head, ignoring the pain that still throbs there and glance around my room. My bed is the only nice thing in the room; and perhaps the picture of my mom that I hide under my pillow. But otherwise the room is littered with old syringes and the smell of drugs that I have pretty much become accustomed to. I swing my feet over the edge of my bed and let them sink into the carpet. Soft and white, a few blood stains from where I had fallen or spit blood before my father told me how much I was like mom. Dirty whore is what I guess his insult is supposed to mean. I walk over to my window and peak through the blinds. Sunlight.
I turn away and walk swiftly from the room. Thw world chooses this day to be bright ... Why? Why can't the light just disappear? Where are the clouds? My bedroom door flings open as I almost break into a sprint for the living room. I slow down when I reach the room and tiptoe around to each of the windows, closing the shades and trying to ensure that all light will remain out of the room. I watch the couch, worried that the heap laying upon it might roll over and awaken and see me standing around instead of pouring him another drink. I find myself tempted to spit on him while he sleeps with a snore and a bottle poured out onto the ground off the side of the couch. I hate the air in here, filled with the strong fumes of alcohol. It crosses my mind to just kill him while he sleeps ... No, not sleep, is hungover and stupid like the bastard who chooses to be everyday. I breathe out and begin to walk away towards the door. I can't kill him ... I stand in the doorway, regretting even thinking something so cruel. I push the evil thoughts from my mind and try to think o fthe positive things.
I don't know why I thought that would be easy.
"So you thought you could just walk out o fthe house without telling me, huh?"
I whirl around just in time for a fist to meet my face. I think I scream before I hit the floor, but as I lie on the floor trying to catch my breath I can't really remember. I try to stand quick and run but he already has be by the hair, dragging me back to my bedroom. I scream and twist and claw and try to fight my way out of his grasp but he only swears and pulls hard.
"You're just like your mother ..."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
My surfboard bounces on the waves as I watch the sunset. It is beautiful, that's for sure. I can guarentee that it outshines me, especially since my hair is frizzed, my eyes are nearly swollen shut and my face is probably filled with the beginnings of bruises. But that is just a normal day for me. So used to the world shunning me and leaving me to suffer and die. Somehow I must deserve it. But still don't know that reason. Life sucks. Plain and simple. And with life so ugly, I can only imagine how beautiful death must be.
But when will death show itself to me?
Probably never ...