Page 132 of Eternal
The dishes, the laundry, sweeping the floor that’ll never be clean.
By the time I’m done, my arms ache, my fingers raw from the cold water.
My stomach twists in hunger, but I’m too tired to eat… I want to disappear.
I head upstairs, to the tiny, stale room that belongs to me, the thin mattress, the pile of dirty clothes, the window that barely lets in any light.
The stars on the ceiling.
I miss the sun.
Not the real one, but the warmth.
I hate it all. I hatemyself. I hatethem.
I reach under the bed, fingers finding the cheap bottle of vodka and the tiny baggie I hid in the torn lining of my backpack.
One sip. Two. Then a hit.
The burn spreads through me, dulling the edges, softening the parts that are too sharp, too broken.
My soul is elsewhere, it’s peaceful there.
Maybe I should die like that.
Alone and high.
I let my body sink into the mattress, my head spinning, the world fading. Maybe I’ll sleep through the night. Maybe I won’t wake up at all.
Then—
A knock,it’s a routine, a pattern, a script I’ve been forced to follow for years.
I don’t move, I don’t breathe. If I stay still enough, maybe I’ll sink into the mattress, and really disappear this time.
The door creaks open, heavy footsteps across the room, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The smell hits me first, beer, sweat, something sour that clings to him no matter how much he showers, I keep my eyes on the ceiling, counting the cracks.
Anything but him.
Anything but him.
The bed dips as he sits beside me, I feel his stare before I hear his voice. “Sixteen,” he murmurs, almost like he’s marveling at it. “Such a dangerous age, little one.”
His fingers grazed my leg through the blanket and I got rigid, that’s the game. If I flinch, I lose, but I do flinch. My body knows before my brain does, curling in on itself, muscles going tight.
Don’t move. Don’t react. Don’texist.
He chuckles, low and lazy. “Pretending to be asleep again?”
The mattress dips deeper.
Oh God.
A thick hand lands on my thigh, fingers pressing through the blanket like he has every right on me. He always did, like I belong to him, my skin crawls, and I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop from shaking… he likes it when I shake.
“I take care of you,” he murmurs, voice slurred. “A little appreciation wouldn’t kill you.”
I want to vomit. I want to disappear.
