Is it over?
Is she done?
“You just wait until your father gets home you little bitch. He’ll be home soon and you’ll be in such deep shit,” She growled.
My body braced itself on its own as she reared her leg back, kicking me in the gut a couple of times. My arms were around my head, protecting it from her kicks. She stopped kicking me, a satisfying huff leaving her lips before she stomped away, slamming my bedroom door.
I laid on the cool, wooden floor of my bedroom, staring across from me at some clothes piled on the floor. A tear fell off my face and hit the floor as I laid there in pain from the beating I just received from the woman I call my mother.
I took a deep breath, bracing myself as I pushed my body to its feet, ignoring my bones’ protest. I stumbled towards the bathroom connected to my bedroom, nearly tumbling over my backpack on the floor. I leaned against the sink, fumbling for the bottle of ibuprofen I kept stashed in the medicine cabinet behind my mirror.
I took three of them, using water from the sink, before stumbling back into my room, collapsing onto my bed. I reached out, pulling one of my pillows to my body. I began to cry silently, even though this was a daily occurrence. I still cried.
Eventually, my crying subsided and I drifted to sleep, dreaming about being somewhere else...somewhere where I was loved…