Broken Until You

Chapter 7 - Derek the Lifesaver

Autumn

Last night after eating dinner at the Becker's, I went home and my mother, no surprise, took off before my father could get home. Right when I walked into the front door, my father started to throw empty beer bottles at me, saying how he wished I was never born and all these other horrible things. I don't even remember how many times he punched me but let's just say it was a lot.

Foundation powder floated through the air as I repeatedly added it to my makeup brush. A big, dark purple bruise gladly made a home around and on my eye and on the side of jaw and neck.

Trying to forget about last nights chaotic event with my dad, I tried thinking about ideas for the English project.

Maybe I could volunteer at the animal shelter? Or help the homeless?

A foundation-covered face looked back at me in the mirror. I let my hair fall in front of my face but it only really covered the sides of my face, not the front.

"Whatever, it's good enough," I sighed and made my way over to my closet.

"I should probably wear a long-sleeved shirt," I said as I looked down at the cuts and scars on my arms from the glass of the beer bottles.

Grabbing a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans, I quickly changed and hurried out the door.

***

I tapped my mechanical pencil against my desk as I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to concentrate on my test. History is and will always be my weakest subject for some odd reason. I don't get why I suck at it because it's not that complicated. The only thing I really learned from history is to not repeat it.

Wiping my now greasy forehead, I glanced around the class and saw people getting up to turn in their test. How can they possibly be done?!

Focus!

Right. Focus.

I looked at my test paper and frowned.

WhO wA$ teh prezid£nt d]ring worrld vvar 1?
a) L!n3()n
b) wasS&i3ngton
c) gr4n+

None of the words made sense.

I rubbed my eyes and looked down at my paper again, but now it was even harder to read.

When I brought my sleeves up to rub my eyes for the second time, I noticed there were patches of foundation on them.

Ohhhh crap.....

Immediately, I rose my hand.

Mr. Evans, my history teacher, glanced up from what he was doing. "Yes?"

"Can I use the restroom please?"

"Fine but make it quic-"

I scooted my chair back, stood up, and ran for the door before he could finish his sentence.

I could barely breath as I raced through the long hallways, but not having enough air in my lungs didn't stop me from running as fast as Usain Bolt to the girls restroom.

Finally reaching the restroom, I kicked the door open and ran to the mirror.

Terror filled my complete facial expression as I stared at myself in horror. The foundation on my forehead and cheeks came off and only little remains of it were smudged on my black eye. I looked psycho.

Cupping my hands under the sink, I splashed cool water onto my face multiple times before turning the water off and drying my face with paper towels. I looked at myself in the mirror. Even though my black eye was now exposed, it's better than having random smears of foundation on my face. "Shouldn't of bought that dollar store foundation," I huffed under my breath as I tried to move some of my brown hair to the front of my face, which wasn't working.