Psychotic_Demon
The Espeon of the Moon
- 5,127
- Posts
- 20
- Years
- Age 32
- In waiting.
- Seen Apr 1, 2008
This is just a quick simple story I wrote. Its actually a scene from my past. Maybe if I write it out, or talk to someone, it'll stop haunting me. MW isn't working right now, so excuse the spelling mistakes if there are any.
~~~~~~~~~~
"What the hell are you still doing up for?!" I often heard this drunken voice when he stumbled through the door, leaning against its frame to keep himself up. It was around 12 midnight, and my little sister, Kimberly, had woken up from a bad dream.
We were sitting on the couch that was against the wall, next to the grandfather clock. It chimed, annoucing that it was officially 12:00.
I tried to speak. I really did. But when a drunk man walks into your house with a glass bottle in his hand its kind of hard to. Its hard to speak when you know no matter what excuse you make up, your still going to get hurt. It was hard just looking at him.
"I.... Kimberly.... We....," Was all I could manage to say.
A small frightened voice spoke up. "It was my fault," She had tears running down her cheeks, and was shaking more than before. Both of us knew the consequences. "I had a bad dream...." Her voice trailed off.
There was a long silence. At least it seemed like a long one. I couldn't let him hurt Kimberly. "Please, we'll go right to bed and fall asleep right away! I was just trying to calm her down." Kimmy's nightmare was actually about our mothers boyfriend. She said he had gotten home late, as usual, and then mention something about me. I wasn't really listioning to that part. I wish I had.
"OUT! GO TO YOUR ROOMS NOW!!!" He shouted. I had just said we would. Asshole.
Before Kimberly or I could react, a glass bottle was flying through the air at us, aimed at my face. Thats great, just use us for target practice. I love you too.
"Kimberly, move!" I shouted. She didn't see it, so I pushed her out of the way, falling to the ground and covering my head all at once. Its surprizing how fast one can move when they're in danger. The bottle shattered against the wall, and glass flew everywhere. Something sharp slashed across my back, skimming the surface of my skin. I could feel warm liquid oozing out of my cut.
Kimberly dashed up the stairs, but I stayed where I was, in too much pain to move, to even breathe. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to punch him, kick him, hurt him, make him pay for the past few months. My blood was starting to drip onto the floor. But, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't even utter a word, let alone hurt him.
*~*~*~*
"Did it hurt?" Kimberly asked, watching me try and clean my new cut. She had some scratches on the back of her leg.
"Yeah," I said, wincing.
"Did you cry?"
"No."
"How do you do it?"
"Do what?" I turned around, looking at her. She was near tears again. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, bitting her lip. Poor kid. Six years old and having to live through this.
"How..." She was having trouble finding words. I sat down on my bed next to her, taking her hands in mine. Finally, she knew what to say.
"How are you so strong? How can you be so brave?" She started crying again, leaning against me. I let go of her hands and wrapped my arms around her.
"Kimberly," I began, wanting to cry with her. But I couldn't. She needed me, and I needed her. "I don't know."
She continued. "You're so calm and smart, and you'll face up to that monster. I hope he burns in Hell."
"Kimberly, don't use those words," That was my fault. I had said that in front of her once.
"I'm sorry its just... Your so strong, so... so caring, so kind. I wanna be like you..." She stopped crying, but still didn't move. I felt sorry for her.
I smiled gently, looking her in the eye. "But you are. To live through this at your age is strong and brave." She smiled back at me, sniffing. We sat there the rest of the night, just talking. I doubt I'll ever forget that one night, not because of the scar on my back, not because of the man who helped ruin my life, but because of that one little girl named Kimberly, and all she survived through.
~~~~~~~~~~
Well, there you have it. Nothing fancy, just a relief.
~~~~~~~~~~
One Night...
"What the hell are you still doing up for?!" I often heard this drunken voice when he stumbled through the door, leaning against its frame to keep himself up. It was around 12 midnight, and my little sister, Kimberly, had woken up from a bad dream.
We were sitting on the couch that was against the wall, next to the grandfather clock. It chimed, annoucing that it was officially 12:00.
I tried to speak. I really did. But when a drunk man walks into your house with a glass bottle in his hand its kind of hard to. Its hard to speak when you know no matter what excuse you make up, your still going to get hurt. It was hard just looking at him.
"I.... Kimberly.... We....," Was all I could manage to say.
A small frightened voice spoke up. "It was my fault," She had tears running down her cheeks, and was shaking more than before. Both of us knew the consequences. "I had a bad dream...." Her voice trailed off.
There was a long silence. At least it seemed like a long one. I couldn't let him hurt Kimberly. "Please, we'll go right to bed and fall asleep right away! I was just trying to calm her down." Kimmy's nightmare was actually about our mothers boyfriend. She said he had gotten home late, as usual, and then mention something about me. I wasn't really listioning to that part. I wish I had.
"OUT! GO TO YOUR ROOMS NOW!!!" He shouted. I had just said we would. Asshole.
Before Kimberly or I could react, a glass bottle was flying through the air at us, aimed at my face. Thats great, just use us for target practice. I love you too.
"Kimberly, move!" I shouted. She didn't see it, so I pushed her out of the way, falling to the ground and covering my head all at once. Its surprizing how fast one can move when they're in danger. The bottle shattered against the wall, and glass flew everywhere. Something sharp slashed across my back, skimming the surface of my skin. I could feel warm liquid oozing out of my cut.
Kimberly dashed up the stairs, but I stayed where I was, in too much pain to move, to even breathe. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to punch him, kick him, hurt him, make him pay for the past few months. My blood was starting to drip onto the floor. But, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't even utter a word, let alone hurt him.
*~*~*~*
"Did it hurt?" Kimberly asked, watching me try and clean my new cut. She had some scratches on the back of her leg.
"Yeah," I said, wincing.
"Did you cry?"
"No."
"How do you do it?"
"Do what?" I turned around, looking at her. She was near tears again. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, bitting her lip. Poor kid. Six years old and having to live through this.
"How..." She was having trouble finding words. I sat down on my bed next to her, taking her hands in mine. Finally, she knew what to say.
"How are you so strong? How can you be so brave?" She started crying again, leaning against me. I let go of her hands and wrapped my arms around her.
"Kimberly," I began, wanting to cry with her. But I couldn't. She needed me, and I needed her. "I don't know."
She continued. "You're so calm and smart, and you'll face up to that monster. I hope he burns in Hell."
"Kimberly, don't use those words," That was my fault. I had said that in front of her once.
"I'm sorry its just... Your so strong, so... so caring, so kind. I wanna be like you..." She stopped crying, but still didn't move. I felt sorry for her.
I smiled gently, looking her in the eye. "But you are. To live through this at your age is strong and brave." She smiled back at me, sniffing. We sat there the rest of the night, just talking. I doubt I'll ever forget that one night, not because of the scar on my back, not because of the man who helped ruin my life, but because of that one little girl named Kimberly, and all she survived through.
~~~~~~~~~~
Well, there you have it. Nothing fancy, just a relief.