RESPIRE (LGBTQIA+)

Hopelessness

II. HOPELESSNESS

SLOWLY, I SLID DOWN THE side of the cubical after flushing the toilet, wishing that nausea would hurry up and shift. I have eaten something small to settle my stomach, but today seemed like a day of sipping nothing but water. After these last few weeks, that has been all I have consumed and kept down, and even then, I am lucky to get any water with the way Scott has been.

After my stomach stopped churning, I heaved myself up from the floor when a sharp pain burnt its way into the side of my rib cage, a quick hiss coming from me as I breathed in, trying to keep calm until the pain stopped while I remained crouched until I could take a breath and not make the unnecessary groan. I continued to count inside my head until the pain started to die in my ribs towards my back, leaving behind a deep smoulder like someone had tried to out a fire. I pulled my shirt up to check over my ribs, feeling a grimace on my face as I looked down at the bruising, the colours still bleeding out into deep reds and purples, feeling the heat from the skin on my arm when I stood up and left the cubical.

The sound of someone coming into the restroom made me jump and hit my elbow, starting the pain to return in my ribs when all I could do was squeeze my eyes shut and sink my teeth into my arm to let out a muffled cry. The harder I had to bite down, the easier it was to muffle the sound that left my throat. I quickly quietened my breathing when I walked around the cubical to be stood face-face with Miss Coldroy. With one of her eyebrows raised at me, she gave me a quick look over as the expression on her face changed to concern. Today was not the day for her to start questioning, not knowing how long I could hold myself together before I broke and crumbled. I never gave her a chance to let out a word when I quickly ducked by her, not having the energy to make excuses and argue while trying to hold up my cracking mask and facade. Miss Coldroy, she was going to be the death of me, literally.

The other teachers would say the usual and throw out a good morning, then ask how you are, not to keep chipping away at the mask to find something that could spill the contents all over the floor.

I was in two minds. Part of me wanted them to find out. I want to break and tell them. I would even scream it to them if I could. But the reality of it kept me quiet, terrified of what he would do if he knew I had said something and told them what he had been doing. Then again, in the same mind, I was also ready to let go. I could not keep this up anymore.

I know that what happens at home is not normal. Home life was never like this when I was younger. The moment that I hit thirteen, that is when everything changed, and then Kal moved out to start her own life. I had no idea what it was that I had done. I follow his rules. I follow his routine. If I had one slip-up, that would be it. I also have a mother who would not look at me and act like I no longer exist. She does not talk to me.

Then Kathleen walks in, and it is all rays of sunshine. Why am I not looked at like that? When she looks at me, there is no emotion. The only time she will talk to me is to tell me to beg the Lord for forgiveness and to learn from my mistakes.

And I pray.

To who? I do not even know. Nobody listens to me plead.

I have begged the four walls to let me go. I have begged. And I have grovelled. I can bargain, and I can gamble everything that I have left to give. It will still never be enough.

From the start of being a teenager at twelve to now at fifteen, it has been three whole years. For three years, I have lived with his mind games and punishments. I have been hit, slapped, kicked, burnt, and whipped. I have kept my mouth shut, and I have kept out of the way. I ask for one thing, yet I am left in silence unanswered.

I had days where just getting through the morning was a struggle. I always seemed to gravitate towards the same questions that hold the same answers. Why have I not taken off running? It would be easy to do during school hours and get a head start. But the thought of him seeking me out like a bloodhound turned my stomach, and thinking about what he would do to me made my skin crawl.