Page 36 of Healing Souls

Love you, my sweet niece.

Brielle

A single tear makes its way down my cheek and drops onto the note. I wipe at my face and fold up the paper, placing it in the drawer on the nightstand.

I can’t believe Sugar did all this for me. He just met me, after all. I don’t understand any of this. But one thing is for sure, I am so tired of crying. I need to get it together and not feel like such a crybaby all the time.

I shake myself from all these intense emotions and go take a long shower before slipping into bed. I had hoped to be tired enough to sleep through the night, but I should’ve known better.

The nightmares never give me a break.

The door to the basement swings open, and I hear the clack of Mother’s high heels as she comes down the stairs. My heart beats in sync with her steps, the sound echoing off the walls of the too quiet basement.

It’s been two sunsets and two sunrises since she last came down here.

Sometimes the stillness of the basement feels suffocating, but then I hear her coming again and I realize the stillness is my sanctuary. My peace.

Mother sighs deeply when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. I risk looking up at her from where I am huddled on the corner of my mattress with my knees drawn up to my chest, attempting to hide the way my body trembles at her presence.

She tsks. “Get up. I’ve had a long day, and since you’ve been down here doing nothing, you can help make my day better.”

I swallow over the lump in my throat, slowly sliding to the edge of the mattress and standing on shaky legs, my body protesting the movement. It’s still not healed from the last time she was down here. The last beating.

She comes at me quickly, allowing me no chance to attempt to shield myself before she slaps me across the face. Blood instantly pools in my mouth, but I don’t dare spit it out in front of her.

She reaches behind her and grabs something from her back pocket. As soon as I see the knife clenched in her hand shimmering in the low light, I let out a tiny whimper and my body shakes, my knees giving out and hitting the hard concrete below me as she screams at me.

I jolt up with a gasp. My hand flies to my chest, attempting to ease the pain racketing through my ribs. My heart thuds in my ears so loudly it blocks out any other sound.

I learned years ago not to scream when waking from a nightmare. Luckily, that is still embedded in my mind now that I am out of there, because the last thing I need is to wake other people up. Thinking back to the nightmare, my hand flutters down to my thigh.

I can’t feel it with the sweats on, but the skin is raised. It’s not just my thighs but the back of my arms, my shoulders, my back, my chest… Some of the scars healed, but most didn’t.

My skin is disgusting. I hate what she did to me. Whattheydid to me.

I look over at the clock sitting on one of the nightstands and see it’s only four in the morning. I know I won’t be able to fall back asleep now, so I get up and take yet another shower.

I don’t get out until my skin is rubbed raw and burns when the hot water touches it. The pain soothes some piece of my broken mind, distracting from the inside by taking some of the agonyout. Finished washing up, I walk to the closet and look at the selection Brielle brought over.

She helped me order most of these online, and many of the items are black. A lot of hoodies, oversized t-shirts, a leather jacket, sweats, and leggings. There is a dress mixed in with a few colored dressy tops and two pairs of jeans that Bri insisted on. But I haven’t worn them yet, seeing as I am not comfortable with my body. Plus, I prefer and am used to wearing baggy things.

Standing in the middle of the room with a pair of leggings and an over-sized ‘Friends’ t-shirt on, I realize I have no idea what to do now.

Usually at Bri’s, I would go walk the beach once I got used to it. Or read a book from her library or watch weird shows on the TV until she got up or someone came over. I sigh and glance at the door.I can do this. I have nothing to be afraid of. Right?I really wish I still had that gun, but someone took it.

I gasp when I realize I had the knives from Linc in my backpack when I came here. I don’t see the bag now, so I’m guessing it’s still at Rage’s house.

I could go over and find them… I’m sure no one is up yet. Mind made up, I grab a pair of sneakers from the closet and toss them on before moving to open my door. When I crack it open, I find the hall is dark. There is a soft glow at the end of the hall that leads to the stairs.

I step out and turn around to softly shut my door. There was a key on the dresser with a note that said I am the only one with a key, and I can keep my door locked if I want to.

Having that choice made a tiny piece of my broken heart come back together.

It feels like a new level of freedom. My own space.

I turn and move to take a step, but before I can, my leg catches on something, and I trip. Before I go down, preparing to hurt myself, especially while still healing from the bullet wound, large hands grab my waist and stop me from falling over.

As soon as I am on my feet again, I jolt backwards out of their hold, my breaths coming in fast pants as I clench my fists, expecting to be hit.

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