Fixing You (Complete)

Fixing You: Prologue

Prologue

I fumbled with the lock, trying to open the front door with my house key. Once it finally budged, I opened it slowly, afraid of what I might find beyond these cream painted walls.

I flipped on the light switch located next to the door, dropped my keys on the kitchen table, and looked around. My mother was lounged on the couch, bottle of Jack in hand as she snored loudly. The TV was still blaring cartoons and I went to turn it off, making sure not to wake my mother up in the process. I never liked her when she was awake. To be honest, I never liked her at all. But after all, she’s my mother. I have no choice but to put up with her, despite the horrendous pain she's caused me.

"Kendall, is that you?" she said groggily, awaking from her deep chamber of sleep. "Yes, mom. It's just me." I examined her closely; her oily brown hair fell over her closed eyelids and dark circles fell under her eyes.

"Mom, you look a little pale. I'm going to make you a glass of water." I covered her back up, hoping this would make her fall back asleep. Just in case, I made her a glass of water, crushing two sleeping pills into it to make a mixture.

"Drink this," I said, handing her the glass. She took a few sips before setting it down on the coffee table. As she rolled back over and nestled into her covers, I headed up to my room, hoping the pills would do the trick.

I was thankful she hadn't woken, at least to the point where she was alert. By the look of it, she's been drinking again, just as she is every day. It's always worse when she's drunk - the pain was harder to deal with. She comes chasing after me, her words slurred, shouting her foul mouthed language at the top of her lungs. Most times, she uses her belt on me, whipping me until cuts and bruises covered my pale skin. It's getting to the point where people at school are starting to notice.

Walking to class, I can feel the hundreds of eyes following my every move. I can even hear them whisper to their friends, no doubt talking about me - freak of Valley High. Despite how much I try to cover them with long sleeved shirts, people still notice the bruises covering my knuckles. At least they don't see the scars.

Just thinking about everything all at once makes me want to give in. In fact, I think I will. I head to my dresser drawer, searching desperately for my razor. Once I've found it, I glide my smooth fingertip across it's jagged edge, getting used to the feel of the blade. All it takes is a simple slice down my wrist to cure my emotional pain, at least for now.

I watch eagerly as the crimson blood trickles down my arm, spotting on my skin like ruby red gems. Just for the heck of it, I slice again, remembering all the pain my "mother" has put me through. The cuts are deep, and it is then when I know I'm going to have to hide them even better than usual.

Once the blood stops it's course, I grab the gauze from the bathroom cabinet and wrap it around my arm tightly, making sure the blood has stopped for sure. I put the razor back where it belongs, relieved for giving in to the temptation.

I lay across my bed, hugging the covers close to my neck. My body was surrounded in warmth, provided by the thick blankets on my bed. My eyelids became droopy and eventually gave into the drowsiness. And that's when the nightmares came.

* * *

I looked down below from my two story window, looking out into the night. The breeze was cool and chilly, which isn't usual here in Cali. I stood there for a moment more before closing it, trying to warm my arms by rubbing them. As I was shutting the window, a black figure appeared out of the shadows, standing there in the driveway.

It appears to be watching me, observing my every move. I closed the window and tried to go back to bed. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched off of my skin, which caused me to toss and turn all night. I finally woke up, heading towards the bathroom to take a hot shower, hoping that would calm me down and make the feeling go away. As I opened the curtain to start the water, I screamed, a blood-curdling scream that I'm sure the neighboors could hear. Standing in the tub was the mysterious shadow figure - with a knife in hand.

I didn't know what to do, so I bolted out of the restroom, down the stairs, and out the door, only to look back and see the figure chasing after me. I ran to our neighboors house, not knowing where else to run. Ringing the door bell frantically, I was awarded by Mrs. Bradey opening the front door. "What is it, dear?" She asked, rubbing her wrinkly eyes to awaken from sleep. "There's a m-man ch-chasing m-e." I sputtered hurriedly.

But before she could even respond, I let out another scream, right as the figure stabbed me in the back. The last thing I saw was the outline of Mrs. Bradey's helpless eyes before I woke up.

* * *

I woke up covered in a thick layer of sweat beading my forehead. Breathing frantically, I went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. It was just a dream, Kendall. I repeat, trying to calm my nerves down.

I've been getting horrible nightmares ever since I was little. I've tried going to doctors, but they could never figure out why I got them. All I knew was that they were extremely vivid, almost as if I was actually there.

When I was little, I used to go to my mother's side and sleep in her bed, but as soon as she saw me, she would say, "Go back to bed, Kendall." not even trying to comfort me in the least. I looked up at her with innocent eyes. "Go." she said more sternly. And I would head to my room, making sure to check under my bed and in my closet.

I looked over at the clock: 7 am. I slammed my hand on the snooze button in frustration, making the alarm clock clatter to the ground. Throwing my head in the pillow, I realized the worst. It's time to go back to hell.