13. Chapter Thirteen

Darkside - Neoni

Lastnight was a night I'll never forget. Standing under the steaming hot shower at home, my head is filled with a carousel of the things I witnessed. Replaying in my head on a never ending loop. Round and around. Running my soapy lufa across my body, I can still feel the ghost of his touch. The burn between my thighs stings on contact and my pussy still aches. Every tiny spot on my skin where his gloved fingers touched, forever imprinted with the memory of him and who I belong to. I don't know what it is about him, or why when he's around I seem to become this different person.

A darker person.

But after lastnight, there is no going back. Lux is the incarnation of my haunting nightmare, and I never want to wake up.

When I finish rinsing the soap from my body, I turn off the taps, and grab the towel from the hanger just outside the shower, wrapping it around my body before I step out. The mirror is coated in a thick layer of condensation and I wipe my hand through it. Well, even after my shower I look rough, but two hours of sleep will do that to you.

Crashing sounds come from the kitchen. Great. I roll my eyes as the sounds continue. Dad is clearly awake and in one of his moods. Typical. Quickly, I exit the bathroom attached to my room, and head to my dresser to pull out some clothing. A black lace and bra set, complete with black leggings and since I'll no doubt be spending the day scrubbing carpets and cleaning, one of moms old band tees. It's one of the only things I managed to keep of hers. Anything of real value Dad sold after her funeral to support his new drinking addiction.

I slip into my outfit, and scrunch my hair with the towel to suck up any extra water before hanging over the bathroom door and making my way down the hall towards the kitchen.

My jaw drops when I turn the corner. Dad stands with his hands flat on the small kitchen table. His back is turned to me as he breaths heavily. Bottles and dishes have been pulled from the cupboards and smashed all over the floor. The fridge door, hangs open by one hinge, and food is thrown around the room.

"What the actual fuck is this shit?" I shout turning my attention to my Dad. He turns to face me and at first, I don't even reconize the man looking back at me. Anger unlike anything I've ever witnessed from him is etched into his face. His chest rises and falls in slow labored breaths.

"Oh, did I wake you? Sorry, I must've forgotten you were gone all fucking night?" he spits aggressively.

"Wow, okay. Since when does it matter if I'm gone all night? And you didn't wake me, I was showering-"

"Showering," he scoffs, "because washing that whore scent off you is more important than maintaining the house, right?"

Stunned by his words I grip the counter to steady myself. "Excuse me? Whore scent?"

"You're just like her," he replies, stepping towards me. "You think I'm stupid. That I don't know you were out all night with some fucking guy."

"What are you even talking about? I think you're still drunk, Dad." He has to be drunk still. Nothing he is saying makes sense.

He laughs, "Yeah you're mom stood right where you are now, and lied to me about her little side piece too."

"Side piece? Mom loved you. She never would've done that to you, and even if she did, what the fuck does that have to do with me?"

"You're going to leave me just like she did!"

"Mom didn't leave you! She died!" I snap.

"Oh she died alright," he replies, lifting a beer to his lips as he takes a sip. "I made sure if I couldn't have her, then no one could, least of all some low life scum she worked with."

My eyes widen as I take in his words. He killed my mom? No. She died in a car accident. It was an accident. Right?

"You're full of shit!" I shout, smacking the bottle from his hand and sending it to shatter on the floor with the others. He growls. "Mom would never have done that to you. She loved you! She wasn't leaving you, she was going to the store and her death was an accident." My voice turns to sobs as I'm forced to relive her death and the pain it brought me. "It was a horrible accident. That's all."

"Sure," he sneers. "A horrible accident that I planned, she was going to leave me. She just hadn't told you yet. All it took was a snip of her break lines to make sure she never could."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" Bending down, he grabs the neck of one of the broken bottles from the floor and steps toward me. He shoves me against the counter with his arm, throwing me off balance. Before I can steady myself his hand is at my throat, pinning my head against the top cupboard that runs along the wall. The impact of my head on the wood hurts, and the room seems to spin around me.

"I'll be damned if you're going to end up being another whore like her. I'll never let you leave me," he explains. From the corner of my eye I can see his face. Not a speck of guilt fills his darkened eyes and for the first time in my life, I find myself afraid of him. Afraid of the one man who was supposed to always keep me safe.

His salt and pepper hair hangs over his enraged blue eyes as he lifts the beer bottle to my face. "No one will want you when I'm done with you."

"Dad!" I cry out as the realization of his plan hits me. "Please. I'll never leave. I promise!" Panicked, my lip trembles as I fight to free myself from his hold. Lack of sleep after the night before, and my already sore muscles make it impossible. He's bigger than me. Stronger.

"I know you won't babygirl. I know," he whispers, before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. My panic dissipates, and my eyes flutter closed with relief.

He's not going to do it.

He wouldn't. Then I feel the cool sting of the glass as it slices through my tear stained cheek.

My eyes snap open as blood curling screams fill the small kitchen. Echoing off the walls around us. Dad runs the jagged bottle across my face. Carving my face like it's a jack-o-lantern. I can feel the heat of my blood as it pours down my face, dripping from my chin.

"That's it baby girl. Almost done," he whispers with his beer scented breath against my face. "Almost done."

Bile rises in my throat threatening to make its appearance.

He pauses briefly to inspect his work. Though his hold on me is firm, I take the opportunity to push him. To fight back. Lifting my leg, I knee him in the balls, catching him offguard. He releases my neck, and I use the last of my strength to shove him off me. The bottle crashes to the floor as he stumbles backwards.

"What the fuck!" He slips, sliding on the broken glass thats scattered across the kitchen floor, and falls. Smacking his head on the kitchen table on his way down. I freeze. Blood still leaking down the gash in my face. My whole body trembles. A mix of shock, fear and disbelief work their way through me as I watch the blood begin to pool beneath his head.

Is he dead?

Did I kill him?

The bile finally makes it's appearence, and I bring my shaking hands to my stomach as I vomit. A million thoughts run through my head. He's dead. My dad is dead. I killed him. But it's not murder, right? It's self defense.

He was hurting me.

Cutting me.

My hand flies to my cheek and I hiss at the sting the contact brings. Bringing my hand to my face, I find my fingers coated in crimson blood.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. With shaky hands I pull it out finding Claire's picture on the screen.

Just checking in girl. We haven't heard from you since we left.

Fuck.

I need to go. I need to get out of here before anyone see what I've done.

I quickly make my way back to my bedroom, and grab my old black duffle bag from under my bed. Opening it up I fill it with anything I can grab. Clothes, toiletries. My charger and laptop. Picking up a picture of my mom and I from my vanity, I pause, as the horrible things my dad said about her fill my head. It can't be true. Any of it. Though, now after seeing how violent he can be, even if it was true, I wouldn"t have blamed her for wanting to leave. How could I?

I shove the picture in my duffle bag along with a couple of items from my vanity. My reflection in the mirror catches my attention. But at first, all I can see is blood. Bright red crimson blood streaking down my cheek and neck. Closing my eyes, I swallow the lump in my throat and slowly move my face closer to the mirror before opening them.

My eyes fill with tears at the sheer sight of what my own father has done to me. A large deep gash is etched into my once beautiful flesh. From my temple, down to the corner of my mouth.

Jagged. Ugly.

Ruined.

I slap my hand over my mouth just as a sob threatens to escape it. I don't have time for self pity. My Dad is dead and it's my fault.

I grab my favorite hoodie from the hook on the back of my door, and pull it over my head careful not to cause myself more pain. Quickly making my way to the bathroom, I grab my toothbrush, and use the wet towel from my hair to try and wipe away some of the blood leaking down my neck. It's pointless and I give up since the open wound continues to bleed. I tuck the blood stained towel into my bag, and take one last look at my room.

A room that once held so many happy memories, now forever tainted with the memory of my dad's drunken abuse. Closing the door behind me, I make my way down the hall, careful not to look into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry Mom. I can't stay here" I whisper, hoping wherever she is, she understands why I've done what I've done and can forgive me for it.

I grab my keys off the table by the door, and leave. It hurts. Leaving the house my mother loved so much behind, but I know she wouldn't want me to stay.

There's nothing good left in this home. Not for me. Dad made sure of that.

I rush to the car, and toss my bag in the passenger seat before quickly starting it up. With my bloodied hands on the wheel, I pull out of the driveaway. I know right away where I'm going, but what I don't know, is why.