Page 123 of Voices

What the fuck have you done?

He knows!

Father will come after him next!

You’re such a fucking idiot!

Why can’t you just be normal?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I wince again at the throbbing in my right eye. Sitting up slowly, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed.

I sway a little as I stand up, feeling lightheaded. I wait for it to pass before grabbing a pair of Shane’s pajama pants out of his drawer on the way to the bathroom.

I avoid looking in the mirror as I pass it to get to the toilet. After relieving myself, I keep my gaze down as I walk to the sink to wash my hands. My vision is a little blurry, so I blink a few times to clear it but all it does is make my head hurt.

Shutting off the water, I lean my hands on the counter and hesitantly tilt my head up. The first thing I see is the huge bruise covering the left side of my rib cage where my father kicked me. I tenderly touch it and jump at the intense pain radiating off it. There’s another bruise on the other side too.

As slowly as I can, I raise my head until my face is staring back at me. I startle at how swollen my eye is. Half my face is covered in a purple bruise. My back twinges, reminding me of the sharp pain from falling on the glass shards. I turn around and look over my shoulder. There are so many pieces of tape and gauze all over my back that I can’t even see my tattoo.

I turn back around and stare into my good eye in the mirror.

Fucking pathetic!

Piece of shit!

Embarrassment!

I let the voices take over my muddled mind until I hear Shane’s alarm go off in his room.

“Charlie,” Shane calls sleepily.

Quickly stepping away from the mirror, I put the pajama pants on and head back into his room.

“Hey, baby. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

I shake my head as I climb into bed and bury my head under the covers.

I hear him chuckle before he pulls the blankets off my head. His bright blue eyes meet my one good one.

“Are you hungry?” He softly strokes my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

I shake my head again while struggling to keep eye contact. He shouldn’t have to see me like this.

I’m broken.

I shouldn’t be here.

Closing my eye so I can’t see worry through his, I feel him shift around until he’s hovering over me.

“Look at me Charlie.”

I shake my head but his fingers running through my hair stop me. He doesn’t say anything as I fight myself to look at him.

“Please, baby.”

He doesn’t sound worried or scared. He sounds like he always does when we wake up together, sweet and caring.

I open my eye slowly to him smiling down at me. When he first wakes up his eyes have a brightness to them that always makes my heart skip a beat.

---