Beautiful Pain

Chapter 2

Novalee

     A throbbing in my head tugged me out of sleep. I groaned quietly and pried my eyes open, ignoring the burst of pain the sunlight caused. I'm on the floor in my bedroom. Last night my father came home drunk again and stormed into my room with no warning.

     Usually there is a trigger that sets him off, some kind of warning before he flys off the handle and hits me. But last night was different. He didn't say a word, he just started punching me in my ribs and stomach until I collapsed on the ground, then he started kicking me in my back, stomach, and sides. The last thing I remember is him viciously yanking me up by my hair so that he could punch me as hard as he could in the head. Then it all went black.

     I grab the edge of my bed and gingerly pull myself up. I notice a few marks on my hands and forearms. They look like cuts and burns, I know they are from my soulmate and I can't help but wonder what he does that causes him to get so many cuts. I cringe as I think of what he must think of me. There's no way he doesn't know how pathetic I am, there's no way to explain away all this damage.

     With a sigh, I tiptoe into the bathroom and quietly brush my teeth and wash my face. I glance at myself, but can't bear to look myself in the eye. I know what I'll see there. A broken, weak, pathetic shell of a girl not worthy of her fathers love.

     On silent feet, I rush back to my room and dress for school. Even drunk, my father at least has the decency to keep the bruises in easily covered places. He never goes for the face, and only slipped up and choked me once. Since then it's always been the torso and head that receives the most damage.

     It's my senior year, I should be excited but I'm not. I have no prospects, no means of escape. My father doesn't allow me to have an after school job, and he refuses to pay for application fees so I can't apply to colleges. He wouldn't even let me get my drivers license. I'm literally stuck. The only way out is death, and I'm too much of a coward to kill myself.

     I leave the house as quickly as possible and walk the four blocks to school. There is still another half an hour until the first bell, so I take my time once I'm out of eyesight of my house. My fingers trace over the mark of a cut on my hand, it's fairly minor. I imagine it was mostly just annoying, but it probably bled a lot.

     Whoever he is, I hope he's happy. I know I'll never find him, that would require me to leave this town and that will never happen. For whatever reason, my father will never let me leave.

     As I walk into school, I duck my head and make myself small. The cliques and loners I pass spare me a few glances but that's it. People here stopped trying to befriend me a long time ago. It's easier to keep my secret if I don't have friends, and when I eventually die, I won't have to worry about leaving behind distraught people.

     The morning passes quickly, but as the end of  the day approaches, I become more anxious and will the time to move more slowly. Of course it doesn't work. If anything I think the clock goes faster.

     I never know what to expect at the end of the day, if he's home I'm in for a lot of tension and walking on eggshells to avoid a beating. If he's not home, then I get a brief time to relax while constantly being at the ready to get to work if he pulls up. My whole evening will be filled with house hold chores and cooking dinner before starting in my homework.

     Everything must be done in a timely manner, and be correct the first time without complaint or I can expect punishment. I almost cry when the final bell rings and I quickly gather my things and head home.

I sigh in relief when I see his car isn't in the driveway, but it's short lived when I see a note on the door saying he will be home in forty five minutes. I have to get dinner ready by then or there will be hell to pay.

     I quickly gather the ingredients for stroganoff. Hopefully making his favorite meal will soften him up. I rush to get everything on the table before he walks through the door, but before I can finish setting the table he walks through the door.

"Where's my dinner you useless whore?!" He slams the door and walks into the kitchen with a look of disgust on his face.

     He used to be handsome, before my mother died. Now his golden blond hair is dull and lifeless, his vibrant blue eyes are bloodshot and glazed from all of the alcohol and sleepless nights and his body has gone soft. Quickly and quietly, I plate his dinner and set it before him. My mothers killing scar peeks out from his turtleneck, and before I can look away he catches me looking at it.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" He roars and backhands me. I stumble back and smack my head on the refrigerator. A wave of dizziness swamps me, and before I can regain my balance he's on me again.

     He punches me in the stomach before grabbing me by my throat and lifting me from the ground. He repeatedly slams me against the wall. With each hit, I can feel the darkness creep upon me, blurring the edges of my vision.
My father stops and lifts me to his eye level, his eyes full of hatred and disgust.

"Don't you ever over step again. You are not worthy of her memory, you're barely worthy of breathing." He growls out and throws me into the living room.

     I crash into the wall, causing an old photograph to fall from the wall and hit my forehead. As my vision swims, I see him grab a beer from the fridge before sitting down at the table to eat. He's so calm, like he didn't just snap and nearly beat me to death.

     With shaky legs I slowly drag myself to the stairs and climb to my room. I have until the T.V. turns on to compose myself before I have to go down and clean up. In the bathroom I see a cut on my forehead from the picture frame, and I can feel blood on the back of my head.

    I clean up as quickly as I can before my legs give out and I'm on the floor, leaning against the wall. There are so many different emotions roaring throughout my body, that I can't even pick one to focus on. Everything becomes numb, and I just stare into space while I wait for the T.V. to play.