Shattered Girl (Emmy)

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Shattered Girl

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As I watched the guys enjoying breakfast, the negative voice in the back of my mind kept bringing up every horrible thing that could happen during our family meeting, someone was bound to be jealous about the time I spent with them, or that I had said I love you to one of them but not all. I kept trying to shut it up, The voice, which now sounded like my mother, continued to remind me how withleus was, that all I caused was trouble, and that one of them was bound to get tired of dealing with me and want out of our relationship. Then the others would leave because they wouldn’t want to break up their family, and I was an outsider, they could kick me aside and forget about me. It wouldn’t matter that I was falling in love with them and willing to try our unconventional relationship. I was screaming in my head for the voice to shut up, to hop talking because I wasn’t listenine, but it didn’t really help. The words just kept spinning through my head. I knew I couldn’t outrun the yoke, but maybe moving would help

I got up from my seat, doing my best to act normal, I didn’t want the guys to worry, it would just make me feel worse. Drew and lake looked up as I stood, but I just mumbled bathroom and harmed out of the room before anyone else could say something. Once I was out of everyone’s line of sight, I hurried upstairs to my room and then into the bathrooms, closing the door behind me. I began pacing around the room, trying to calm my breathing and racing heart. As I paced, I began naming off the things I could see. Shower, sink, tub, toilet, showet, sink, tub, todet, I continued mumbling to myself as I circled the room. I could feel my eyes beginning to sting with bears. When they began to run down my face, I stopped my pacing. I stared at myself in the minor, trying to see what the guys did. I saw a girl of average height with medium-length hair that tended to be a cross between light brown and dark blond. Haunted blue eyes surrounded by thick dark eyelashes stared back at me from a pale Excy. Two small scans could be seen, one close to my ear and the other by my hairline,Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

The one by my car was the oldest, but i still remember clearly the day I got the scar drink, the less interest he had in making sure I did things like go to bed at a decent hour, take a shower, or even eat. The day it happened, I had just gotten home from school, what I didn’t know was that my teacher had called to talk to my father about me falling asleep in class multiple times that week. I had been walking was nine, and my father had just really started drinking heavily, the more be down the hall toward my room when he grabbed my backpack and shoved me back into the living room. I stumbled and fell to the floor, skinning my knee, and began crying. He was right behind me, grabbing my arm and dragging me to my fort; the whole time, he was screaming at me and slurring his words. He pinned me over the hack of the couch, and I knew what was going to happen before I even heard him undoing his belt. The only form of punishment he ever used on me was hitting. I can remember being slapped and s***d so many times that I lost count. was already crying hand when I heard him pull his belt off, and by the third or fourth hit, it was fighting against his hold I somehow managed to get away from him and fell off the couch, hitting the side of my head hard on the side table. The next thing I remember was being flat on my stomach on the living room carpet, my father’s foot on my back, and the sound of the belt coming down repeatedly on my bust and thighs. I don’t remember how long he continued to beat me, but he did end up breaking the skin in several places. That was also the first night I spent alope in the basement. When he was finally tired of beating me, he dragged me to my feet and pulled me through the kitchen to the basement door; he opened it without turning on the light and told me he would let me out when I had learned my lesson. I had to have been in shock because I just stood on the top step of the busement stain while he yelled at me. I didnt even finch when he threw a water bottle and package of c**ers at me. I stayed there the whole weekend, only venturing off d**t top step to try and find the water bottle that had rolled down the stairs,

I looked up into the minor again. I knew I had been talking out load to myself, but and no idea that the guys had all come in and were standing behind me, or how long they had been there. Looks of heartbreak and worry crossed all their faces, akng with another look that I was not ready to accept yet. So, instead, I just closed my eyes. I had come this far; they all wanted to know the hell I grew up in, so I might as will finish it. Show them how broken I really was, and give them a chance to leave before I fell any deeper in love with them,

“That not even the worst experience I lived through, just one of my earliest, I said. This one was from when he threw an empty whisky bottle at my head, and I didn’t dock in time. That one was from the time he thought beating me with the**le end of the belt would be a good idea. Being thrown down the basement stakes, plates, pl** another bottle, the belt buckle again. The small ones across my back and arms are from when he smoked. He liked to put his cigarettes out on me. I pointed to each scar as I told how I got it. My eyes were still closed, and the guys were silent. I wasn t brave enough to look and see if they were still standing there with me or not,

ten.

“Now, let move on to broken bones. I continued, taking a deep breath before I lost my nerve. My left arm was broken for the first time when I was down the basement stains. My left ankle happened the same way. My right am broke from being twisted when I tried to get away. Most of my fingers were either broken or dislocated while trying to protect myself from being kicked.” I shook my hoad, feeling the tears falling faster and faster down my face. “Now should I move on to my ribs, or was that enough of an explanation of how facked up and broken I am I’m sure by now you have seen more than enough of the effects of the emotional and verbal abuse that was spewed at me. Is this enough proof that Em too ch trouble to care about and love? My valce had continued to increase in volume as I talked, and the last statement I had screamed, my eyes still firmly shut, too stated that when I opened them I would find myself alone in the bathroom, he threw me or worse, seving Jamie and Sean waiting for me, my things packed into the SUV so they could drive me to the airport and drive me back to the city. Sobbing harder than I had besoie, I slid down against the vanity cabinets when my butt touched the door; 1 wrapped my arms around my knees the best I could with my splinted arm and continued to sob, the sound echoing around the bathroom

Shattered Girl