Page 11 of Fractured Souls

I try to shake my head, but she has such a strong grip on my hair that I can't move without pain ripping through my head.

I faintly hear Father from somewhere behind her, “Tammy, that’s enough.”

She shoves me back inside through the open slider and tells me to get out of her sight because I am not worth any more of her time. As I'm stumbling to get to the door for the basement, I see the taser in Father’s hand… I can't believe he actually tased me. But I guess I also can. They can be ruthless when it comes to hurting me. Once Mother had Father hold me still as she made cuts up and down my thighs for no other reason than, “She liked the sight of the blood.”

I shudder at that thought as I head down the stairs to the basement. On my way down, I overhear part of Mother and Father’s conversation.

“You can’t keep losing your temper so fast and hitting her where people can see now that she goes out in public.”

I internally scoff. For a second there I thought he was going to tell her not to hit me at all. But who am I kidding? He would never. I don’t understand their relationship. Mother is so much worse than Father is, but in my mind, he is just as bad because he never stops her. I just wish I understood why. Why is he okay with her hurting me?

Tammy huffs, “Fine. I will call the school in the morning and let them know Harley had an accident.”

I don’t hear more because I am already at the door to the basement. It takes way longer than it should to get to the bottom of the stairs since my body is throbbing, causing me to wince with every step down.

When I get downstairs, Father comes and joins me a minute later. He cuffs my ankle like usual, then sighs, “You are such a disappointment, Harley. You will never be enough for anyone. Especially if you can't even be good enough to make your mother happy." His eyes scan me from head to toe with a predatory gaze that has me freezing where I stand, not even daring to breathe. He then stares at me in the eyes and licks his lips. “Someday, Harley, someday, and I can't wait for that day.”

I curl up on my bed, too exhausted to even shower right now. Tears threaten to leak out, but I remind myself I am not supposed to cry over the things they do to me anymore. That gives them a power I don't want them to have. But yet at the same time, being around people and out of this house is reopening all the doors to my feelings I locked down years ago.

ChapterFive

Harley

The next morning, I wake from a restless night of sleep. I try to stretch out, but my body feels like it's been hit by a truck, and even little movement sends stabbing pain through my body. I have no idea how I'll make it through today.

I slowly get up and go pee, then stand at the sink. I no longer have a mirror in here, so I have no idea how bad my face must look. Not that it would matter anyways; I have no way to cover it up.

I quickly shower, unsure of what time it is, just that it's well after sunrise. I pull my jeans I still have on from yesterday down around the chain like normal so I can shower and not get them wet. I was so exhausted I passed out right away last night. I get my hoodie on and set clean jeans and underwear to the side so they are ready to be put on when someone lets me out of the cuff. I finger comb my hair the best I can and call it good.

A few minutes later, Mother comes down and unlocks me, not saying a word as I keep my head down and change my pants. I follow her up the stairs after I'm done and as I head towards the front door, I see Mother and Father behind me, so I stop and wait for whatever comes next.

“Go to the guest bath. There is concealer to cover up the bruise on your face. Do a good job. You look disgusting, and no one needs to see that. I already informed the school that you were playing with a soccer ball outside with Tabby and the ball hit your face and you fell on the porch. That is where your bruise and cut came from. Understood?” I nod my head, and Mother walks away.

I go into the guest bath and as usual, Father comes and stands in the doorway to watch me like he does anytime I am upstairs. I cover up the best I can, but I have no idea what I'm doing, and it does nothing to cover my split lip. All it did was dim the coloring on the bruise, which is much worse than I thought it was. My lip is slightly swollen and cut, and the bruise on my face goes from under my eye and covers my entire right cheek. I shrug and call it good enough. Hopefully I won't see Mother again before I leave.

I make it out of the house and as I walk down the driveway to wait for the bus, my stomach grumbles at me. I haven't eaten in over twenty-four hours and with all the strain my body has been through the last two days, I need to eat something. If Father had not been watching so closely and following me around then I would have grabbed something at home, but that wasn't an option.

I'm one of the first stops, so when I get on, there are only four other students. I sit in the same seat as yesterday, directly across from a girl who is leaning over the seat in front of her talking to the girl sitting there. There is another girl up front and then one guy behind me who is sound asleep.

I start to think of what I can do for food when I glance over at the girl across from me and see her wallet sticking out of her purse. I can't be that insane. I'm not that kind of person. I quickly look away.

I've never thought of myself of being the kind of person to steal, but when it comes down to it, I feel I don't have many options left. I look behind me and find the guy is still sound asleep. Then I look at the girl, seeing she is still half bent over the seat in front of her talking to the other girl. I'm not sure why they just don't sit together…Okay, focus, Harley!

I take a deep breath and scoot to the end of my seat and look around one more time. When it all seems clear, I reach over and snag her wallet really fast and scoot back in my seat, putting my bag up next to me to block anyone from seeing. With trembling fingers, I snatch out the cash. There is $60, so I take a $20 and a $10 and stash them in my bag. Then I check around me before quickly sliding back to the end of the seat and returning the wallet.

Not even a minute later, she reaches for her bag, and I take a deep, shaky breath. Holy shit, that was too close. I can't ever do that again.

About twenty minutes later, the bus pulls up to the school, and we all start to get off. The guy walking in front of me has cash sticking out of his wallet that is in his back pocket… Okay, that's just too easy. How can I resist?

I snag it really fast and shove it in my jeans pocket. I don't even know how much it is, but I couldn't help myself, and it honestly feels kind of good. I know it shouldn't, but I need to eat and truthfully, I could stash the money to save. I have a while before first period, so I go to the bathroom to count my cash. I have $30 from the girl on the bus and $70 from the guy. Shit! I didn't mean to take that much. As I stare at it trying to decide what to do, another bad thought comes to my mind. I could keep doing this… It's not like I can get a job and I can't snoop Mother’s house for cash easily… So I could do this, save, and then run away.

Shit, this is bad. But my life is bad, and in order to survive, I think it's time I sharpen my walls. Do whatever it takes because I can't stay here forever. I know Mother has something planned. She wouldn't have put me in school otherwise.

I have no intention of seeing those plans in action, so staying is not an option. I am hoping I can figure out something else or even try to find my dad. I at least want to know who he is. Him being a good person would be a huge plus, too. Maybe he'd even have answers about my mom and what happened to her and why it happened.

I shove $90 into my bag. I need to find a really good hiding spot for it. I keep $10 out hoping I can use it the rest of the week for food.

Today is Tuesday, so hopefully it'll last all week. Maybe I'll just eat in the mornings and hope Mother or Father give me canned goods like they normally do in the evenings. That should work.

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