Page 18 of Fractured Souls

So I wrote the one question burning in my brain. It's been there since the minute these guys looked at me and didn't immediately run from my scars. Then still didn't run from my brokenness.Why?

“I wish I could answer why, but I can't. I also can't make you trust us, but I can promise you that you won't ever have to fight alone again if you let us in. We see the scars, and I don't mean the one on your face. I mean the ones in your eyes.”

Before anything else could be said, the teacher had gotten everyone's attention.

I had looked down at my notebook, feeling tears in my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wrote down,What if I don't want to fight off my hidden demons? What if I want them to consume me?I stared at it, then I had ripped it out of my notebook and folded it up, promising myself that if he ever found it, it would be a sign I can let them in, trust them, even though I don't know them. Then I reached over and dropped the paper into one of his backpack pockets when he wasn’t looking.

The rest of the day went by like normal, and I’m not sure whether to hope he finds the note or never finds it.

I get pulled from my thoughts as I hear shouting in the house. I've heard fights before, but nothing like this. Mother and Father are screaming at each other. But it's too far away for me to hear what it's about. Next thing I know, Mother is storming downstairs and pulling me by my hair off the bed.

“What have you done?” she screams at me. “I SAID, WHAT have you done?” She shakes me so hard my vision goes blurry for a second. My throat is still raw even though it's been a while since she made me drink that awful drink.

I whisper in panic, “I don't know.”

She screams as she starts raining down blows on me all over from my head to my ribs. She gets tired of hitting and starts kicking me instead. When I don't respond, she rips me off the floor, grabs part of the chain that keeps me trapped down here, and wraps it around my neck, squeezing it. I start to struggle as I'm losing air and can't breathe.

She keeps going as she's screaming at me, but I can't make out what she's saying. I'm kicking my legs and trying to scratch at her wherever I can, but I can feel myself getting light-headed.

The next thing I know, I drop to the floor and Father has Mother pushed back. “We can't kill her. Calm down, Tam. There is more at play here. We will keep her home until after Thanksgiving and find out what she did and what she knows during the week. Go upstairs, take a break.”

Mother stomps up the stairs, muttering to herself.

Father turns around and glares down at me. “One chance, Harley, one. Tell me what you did, and this next week will be easier on you, otherwise I will put you through hell until you tell me everything.”

I shake my head and rasp out, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “You are such a disappointment, Harley. A waste of space. If you weren't needed for a bigger purpose, I'd have killed you years ago or sold you. Of course, after I had my way with you first.” He walks back upstairs, slamming the door behind him.

What the hell is happening?

ChapterEight

Harley

Everything hurts, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I haven't felt this much pain in a while. I can't even drag in a full breath. I think some ribs are broken, and my neck is so sore it's raw and hurts to the touch. My throat is on fire. I think I have a concussion from being shaken so hard, and my vision keeps going blurry. I can't even process what just happened.

I haven’t spoken to anyone! This makes no sense. I wish I knew why she did this shit or where any of this is even coming from, but I'm clueless.

I want answers for once. I am so sick and tired of never understanding or having any answers. I didn't do anything! My mom died. Mine. I did nothing wrong. I have to hold that in my head, otherwise all the shit they tell me will break through and I'll believe that whatever it is they think I did is my fault.

Leave. Run. Something else has to be better than this. It almost feels like my mom's voice is in my head sometimes whispering for me to run. That I am strong. That I can survive. Whether it's real or not, I want to listen to it because I'd do anything to be out of here and be able to talk about my mom freely. She was a beautiful person, light-hearted and fun. God, I miss her so much; it feels like my heart is cracking into pieces when I think of her. Fracturing even more knowing I have no one to tell about her, because I never want her to truly die. It's unfair.Run, Harley.

I have to try. $514. That's going to have to work. It will work, right? It has to. $514. I can do this. I can make that money my bitch.

I crawl slowly back over to my bed and lay down on my side, already breathing hard just from that little movement. There is no way I can run right now. Not that it matters; I don’t even know how to get this stupid ankle cuff off.

Maybe I can run from school tomorrow. Yeah, that could work.

Wait, shit. I heard him say I won't be going back until after Thanksgiving. Fuck! I don't know what to do. I lay here fighting off tears that threaten to spill over, not wanting them to come down and see me cry.

At some point, I fall asleep and wake up to the door opening and more than one set of feet coming down. Mother and Father stop in front of me, and then Father lifts me up as Mother cuffs my hands and then raises them above my head to hook them on a hook in the ceiling.

I'm so tired and in so much pain that I can't even try to fight them off. I've never been strung up like this before. The hook is up high, so I'm stuck on my tippy toes, and the cuffs are cutting into my wrists.

Mother walks in front of me and holds up a cane. She swings it once. Twice. Three times. Hitting me across the front of my thighs.

I refuse to make any noise, so I bite the inside of my cheeks until they bleed. Fuck! That hurts. It's agony, and I know it'll only get worse, so I do the best I can to shut down and lock up any feelings.

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