Sneaking back inside, I manage to hide my tracks and slip into my room undetected. Unfortunately, my mattress is still missing so I curl up on a small pile of clothes. I used to have stuff in my room, but after a while, I stopped trying to decorate. What was the point when my parents take everything I have away within a week of getting it? So now they’ve started taking away the essentials as well. I grab a couple of gray shirts and pull them over me. Thankfully, I still have a few pairs of clothes and my bag full of school books. So at least I have some sort of pillow.
As I drift off to sleep, I find myself dreading tomorrow. I’m now 18, which means they can kick me out at any moment. I just hope, that at least some good is heading my way.
----------------------------------------
I awaken from a particularly disturbing dream only to find a boot sailing towards my face. I tilt my head just enough so that it won’t hurt that badly as I feel pain spark all across my jaw.
“GET UP ALREADY!” My father yells at me, a second kick to my side sending to flying into the wall. “You are not going to be late on my watch!”
I sit up, feeling something shift inside my chest as I do. I wince just enough so that he doesn’t hit me again for crying or because ‘I didn’t seem hurt by it.’ My father is a six foot tall madman who spent his highschool years taking steroids and paralyzing other football players. His cold brown eyes narrow as I struggle to move and his steel-toe cowboy boots swing back again for another kick. I flinch as it moves forward.
“Two for flinching!” His voice shouts in glee as his calloused fists collide with my gut. He never leaves any visible bruises, but then again. He can’t. My skin never bruises or scars for some strange reason, only one wound has a scar, and that was from my brother shooting me with a shotgun.
After a few more rounds of punches and kicks, my father gets bored and leaves me alone to get dressed. Which consists of changing my dirt smeared shirt with another slightly less dirt smeared shirt. I quickly grab my bag and step outside my room only to feel something slam into my back. [Oh, right,] I think as I fall forward. My brother has a new ‘pet’.
I roll over and I feel a searing pain in my arm. Looking down, I notice his dog has just ripped out a solid inch of skin with its claws. The mutt was our parents solution for hiding any pain done to me. Oh my arm is broken? The mutt shattered it while I was walking it. Oh my shirt is covered in dirt? Was knocked over by it on my way to school, etcetera. The black and white dog growls as I inch away from it. I know what it wants, yet I can’t give it any treats. I’m not allowed to.
As I prepare to run though, I feel a presence in my mind guiding me as to what to do. I lower myself slightly and drop my eyes. I hear myself saying very softly a string of syllables that make no sense to me, yet the dog calms down just enough for me to escape outside.
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[Um, what was that?] I think as I stare at our sidewalk. [Did I just calm that thing? What was I even saying?]
[You’re welcome,] a familiar voice echoes in my head. [Seriously, how do you not know how to calm a dog down?]
I decide to ignore the hallucination and start walking to school. Parents and brother had already left a few minutes ago, so it was the long way for me. Not that they would have driven me anyways. They never do.
[Hey!] the annoying voice shouts in my head. [I’m trying to help you!]
I look down the street and notice a car turning at breakneck speed. I recognize the person inside as one of the bullies from my school. They also spot me and begin to grin. The tires on their blue jeep jerk to the side and suddenly it is on the sidewalk. Driving straight for me.
I groan in dread, knowing that I can’t outrun his car. I already had one fracture a year ago from him, and all the cops did was pat him on the back. There are no other cars on the street nor is there anything sturdy to hide behind this time so I just drop my bag and prepare to get hit. I start to let my body go slack only to discover myself crouching. My eyes snap to the jeep and numbers start flitting through the back of my mind. I try to close my eyes, but I cannot. I try to brace myself, yet my body is not listening to me. The jeep is now twenty feet away and accelerating, ten, then five. [NOW!] A voice shouts in my head as I feel my legs shove me upwards, my hands pushing off of the hood of his jeep as my body spins above it. I land with my feet on the ground as the jeep slams into someone’s house. I grab my bag and start running.
“Great,” I mutter to myself as I notice the bully chasing after me with a noticeable limp and blood running down his face. “I now have voices controlling me and a ticked off Mike chasing after me.”
[Voices?] The voice’s in my head protest. [If it wasn’t for me, you’d be a pancake right now.]
“Yeah, at least then I won’t have to deal with the rest of today,” I retort.
[Shut up,] a second voice, probably ‘Ender,’ snaps at me. [Death is not an option for you, so stop hoping for it! Be thankful we haven’t completely overwritten you.]
I stumble at her words. “Overwrite? You can do that?”
[Yes,] the first voice, who I assume was the one calling themselves ‘Phoenix’ answers. [You have no magic of your own so no natural defenses against us.]
“So…” I gasp, my lungs burning from the running. “Why… haven’t… huff… you… erased me… yet?”
[Because…] Phoenix says in my head hesitantly. [Because I don’t want to. Spectre already sacrificed herself and wiping you would be dishonorable.]
“YOU’RE DEAD WITCH!” Mike shouts a hundred yards behind me. “I’M GOING TO MAKE SURE YOU NEVER GRADUATE!”
“Well, you got me in this mess,” I tell them inbetween breaths. “Now get me out of it.”
[…]
“B****!” Mike shouts, now only ten yards away. “I’M GOING TO TURN YOUR INSIDES INTO YOUR OUTSIDES!”
[…]
[Hey, you three there?] I think, trying to direct my thoughts towards them. [Are you really just going to leave me here?]
[…]
“Bloody… hell,” I gasp right as I feel Mike’s hand grab my hair. “This is going to hurt.”
“D*** RIGHT IT IS!” Mike yells in my ear as he yanks my head back. His fist slamming my head head into the concrete.