Tattoos and Scars | Completed, Unedited

1 | Unwanted

I'm tired. Oh, so tired.

It's 6 AM. I made it to my bedroom... somehow. Suddenly, every single sound seemed to startle me. The branches hitting the window. The rustling of the leaves. The sound of a car passing by. Everything.

Hell, even my own reflection scares me.

The shudder of my breath... everything scared me. I didn't know who I was anymore. Even with my dad torturing me everyday, I was never scared, but now, the world seemed like the enemy and I was alone against it.

But everyone changes.

I guess this is my change.

My room door creaks open, and my heart skips a beat. Did I lock the door? What if it's them again? What if they weren't satisfied? I pull my covers higher up my face as I hold in a whimper, until a familiar figure forms in the light.

It's my dad.

My instincts tell me to get up, but I stay hidden. Under my covers. Where it's safe.

"Why are your clothes in the living room?" He growls. Oh no. I forgot to bring my clothes from the living room. I close my eyes, and my breath shakes a little.

"I must have misplaced them," I lie trying to keep my voice as stable as possible. He chucks his empty beer bottle at me, but misses. It shatters on the floor next to my bed.

"Is this what I've raised you for? To 'misplace' clothes?" He bellows, and I whimper.

I don't reply, but instead, I just pull my covers higher up.

"Then what are you waiting for? Go and pick them up!" He slams the door behind him, and I thank heaven that it wasn't more than just throwing his empty beer bottle at me. Clutching my stomach, I hesitantly get off my bed.

It hurts so much. But I don't want to anger my dad more. Or tell him what happened to me because of him. He wouldn't care either way. My mother didn't want anything to do with me, and as per rules, my dad has to keep me in his house until I'm eighteen. And that's a while away.

He only sees me as a burden that his drunk shoulders can't carry. I open my bedroom door, and look at the scattered clothes. Swallowing the pain, I pick up my clothes, and head back into my room.

And suddenly, I burst into tears. It's as if all the weight I've been carrying is suddenly too heavy for me. These tears are from the new Bailey. The one who's scared of her own shadow. The one who's scared by the creak of the door. The one who lost herself in one night. The one who feels unwanted, and weak.

I am unwanted. My own mother didn't want me, and neither does my father.

Why can't my life be like everyone else? Summers filled with vacations, springs filled with laughter and winters filled with warmth.

Why am I stuck in this hell, suffering for my mom's mistake, and my dad's habits?

I just want to feel loved for once in my life. There hasn't been one day in my life where I feel as if everything's going to be okay. Everyday is filled with bottles breaking, and me cleaning them up. Every night is sleepless, but yet I trudge on, holding on to only one hope, that things will be better.

Each birthday only means I'm closer to eighteen and I can finally be free.

But today... I've been violated in my own house. For something my dad did. I don't feel angry. I don't feel sad. I just feel scared. Scared because of how vulnerable I really am, and how easily I can be overpowered in my own house.

It's as if that's all I can feel anymore. Broken, hurt, and scared. Maybe that's all I deserve to feel...

I look at the time. 7 AM. I have to go to work, mostly because I don't want to stay here anymore.

Working is how I've bought everything in my room. Including my bed.

My breath shakes again, as I wipe my tears. There's a bruise on my jaw, which I cover up with some concealer.

I'm so tired. I haven't slept at all, and the incident has exhausted me. The door creaks, and I jump at the noise.

Oh, that was me.

I shakily sigh, and put on my glasses. I haven't brushed my hair, so I just tie it into a messy ponytail.

My hands are trembling.

They've never done that, my legs are shaking too. I'm still struggling to walk, because my stomach hurts so goddamn much. I get out of my PJ's. There are red marks on my legs and arms in the shape of hands. That's from yesterday night...

Then there's yesterday's cut.

And then the day before yesterday, and many many more. That restricts me from wearing any clothes that expose my legs, or arms. My scars are numerous, like someone with tattoos. Yet there are none on my wrist...

I climb into a pair of black leggings, and an white oversized full-sleeved T-shirt.

A car speeds by, and I'm startled again. My heart starts racing, and my palms start to get sweaty, I start to panic, and even my own room doesn't feel safer anymore. There could be someone waiting for me right now, and I wouldn't even know it. My eyes are brimmed with tears, as I try to calm myself down. This isn't me.

I don't understand why this has affected me so much. But then again, I don't really understand anything from last night.

I just know that last night, a weak girl was taken advantage of in her own house... and she could do nothing about it. That night changed her in drastic ways. Bailey Willow isn't who she was anymore. She isn't the optimistic, brave-hearted person anymore. Because she knows that danger can come from anywhere.

And sometimes, you're the one who opens the door for it.

---------

*cue the tears*

also, vote comment and follow.