Tres:
“Hey babes!” I looked up from my small bag and smiled at Tom as he stood in the doorway of my bedroom. The guys and were packing since we were leaving in the morning.
“Hey, Tomi,” I smiled.
“So, uh I know that we’ve tried to skip over the topic of your parents, but Lex, we leave tomorrow, you’ve been away from home for a little over a week, and all you own is few pairs of jeans and some shirts, and things. Don’t get me wrong, babe, you look hot in my shirts and all, but don’t you want to go home and get your things. I know you do, I mean come on your room here is empty and sometimes I noticed you looking for things you think are here, and really they’re back at the house.”
I sighed. Tom was right, he was always right. I walked over to him and hugged him tight. “What would I do without you?” I meant the question as a joke, but it came out more serious than I had intended it to be. We both grew quiet as we thought on my question. Everyone in the band knows that if they hadn’t been around during all this shit, I would have taken my life a long time ago. Shrugging off the tension and smiled and held out my hand. “May I please have your keys so I can go pick up my stuff? My dad should be out getting drunk right about now.”
Tom smiled and kissed my forehead before handing over the keys. Everyone always thought Tom and I were dating, but in reality he was just my good friend. My big brother if you will. It would be too weird and very awkward if we tried to date one another. I started the car, cranked up the radio, and made my way to my old home. The once white house looked grey and the yard was overgrown with weeds. I stepped out of the car and made my way up the cracked pathway to the busted front door. I can remember clearly the day he burst through the door. I was doing homework in the kitchen and my mom was laid out on the couch. Suddenly we heard a loud thud and a crack and my dad came barreling into the house. My mom was taken to the hospital that night to get her ribs wrapped. He shattered six of her ribs.
I opened the door to my house and looked around before stepping inside. I didn’t see my father anywhere. I heard whimpering form the corner. My mom was curled up in a ball crying and covering up her face. I walked over to her and uncovered her face. Horrible bruises covered her face. Both of her eyes were black, her lip was split where he busted it, and cuts and bruises all on her cheeks, arms and torso.
“Mom, why do you stay?” I wondered.
I watched as her eyes opened wide with fear. I turned around only to be struck in the face. My father slapped me causing me fly over by the wall. I smacked the back of my head when I hit the wall. I could taste the blood in my mouth. I touched my fingers to my head only to feel a wet and sticky liquid. I didn’t need to look at my fingers to know what it was. Blood.
“The next time you sneak out of my house I will beat you where you stand is that clear?” my father shouted.
I didn’t answer him; I just looked up and stared him in the eyes. He became irritated and took off his belt. He slapped it across my bare legs.
“Answer me damn it!” He hit me again.
I screamed in pain every time the belt touched my skin. I was vulnerable and there was no one here to help me and my mother. After five minutes my father finally grew tired. He staggered into the kitchen, picked the whiskey bottle off the table, and sat in the chair at the kitchen table. I slowly got up and helped my mother up off the floor.
“Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” I led her upstairs to the bathroom. I grabbed the rubbing alcohol, some cotton balls, and bandages. I cleaned all her wounds and placed bandages in the areas that needed one. I was so used to doing this; I had to do this all most every day. It was second nature to me now; I could probably become a nurse now. I ran her a tub, cleaned her up then got her dressed in some fresh pajamas. “Lie down Mom. You need to rest.”
I tucked her in and kissed her forehead before going to my room. I examined my face in the mirror. A busted lip and big bruise on my right cheek. I looked at my legs which were covered in bruises. I lifted my shirt and saw that my entire torso was covered in black and purple splotches. Holding back the tears, I quickly packed my things. My dad was asleep on the kitchen floor when I brought my bags downstairs. I placed them in the trunk of Tom’s car then sped away from the house. I dialed Tom’s number but received no answer. I pulled up to our apartment and brought in my bags.
The boys were gone…I was alone. Not knowing what to do, I stumbled into the bathroom and examined my reflection once more. I let out a blood curdling scream and punched the mirror. I watched as it shattered and sliced open my hand. Blood ran freely down my fingers and dripped onto the floor. I found my straight-edge razor and began making neat lines on my arms. I was busy slicing into my arms when I heard my cellphone buzzing next to me. I pressed the accept button. “Hello?”
“Hey, Lex, are you finished packing?” Ashley’s voice sounded so excited, maybe because of the tour tomorrow.
“Ashley?” I called.
“Yeah, Lex, are you okay?” His voice sounded concerned now. I was starting to feel lightheaded and listening to the worry in Ashley’s voice made me feel guilty. I told him I would stop, and now here I am bleeding out on my bathroom floor and there’s no one here to save me.
“Lex!”
“Help me,” I breathed. I couldn’t hear anything else really. It was as if someone had stuffed cotton balls into my ears. I just wanted to sleep; sleep sounded so wonderful right now. I managed to stay awake and I was no longer bleeding, but there was still blood smeared everywhere and I was sure my hand needed stitches. I heard my front door open and soon I was staring into the worried faces of Black Veil Brides. “Hi,” I mumbled.
~****~
When asked what happened, I told them I was beat up on my way home. I wouldn’t say who did it, and even though they knew I had cut myself they didn’t say anything. They just cleaned me up stitched up my hand and checked me for broken bones. An hour later I was cleared to go home. BVB drove me back to my apartment where we found my boys freaking out. While Andy explained what happened I lay down in my room. I didn’t bother turning on the light. The dark was comforting.
I heard my door open and the click of the light switched being flicked on. The right side of my bed dipped down and I hid my face in my pillow.
“You said you’d stop.”
I felt tears spring to my eyes when I heard his voice. I let him down. I let everyone down.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I just-I just- I couldn’t finish my sentence. I didn’t even know what I was trying to say. I was just trying to kill myself? I wanted a pain I could control? I was so confused and hurt and there was a multitude of emotions running through my mind.
“Lex, look at me.” I shook my head no. “Why are you trying to hide your face?”
“I just got the shit kicked out of me, I’m not exactly looking my best,” I replied sarcastically.
I felt him lift my face from the pillow and turn my chin so that I was facing him. “You just survived another beating from your dad and just got out of the hospital. Do you honestly think I care if your face has bruises and scratches,” he smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You had us all really scared.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry?
“I know it’s hard and I know you want to give up, but you’ve got to keep fighting. You have to get back up every time life knocks you down.” I buried my face into his chest and silently cried as his arms wrapped around me. I could feel him humming as I had my face pressed against him and slowly drifted to sleep as he hummed a song that, in my sleepy state, I didn’t recognize.

Notes

Wow, 45 views and Ithink 1 comment. Thank you! :)
I have a lot of respect for people who self-harm. It probably sounds like I do, but I honeslty don't self-harm. I tried though. My junior of high school, I thought about committing suicide or just slicing open my wrists and watching myslef bleed out. But I was too chickenshit to do it, honestly. I can't tell you how many times I've called my boyfriend and told him I had a knife against my wrist, or how many times he had to talk me out of it. When you read the scenes involving self-harm in my stories, I'm not just doing it because of the ratings I could get. I do it, because as I write I put myself in these stories, and sometimes, it helps to share the moments where you were at your lowest to someone.
I hope whoever is reading this, is enjoying what I've written and can see that what I am writing comes from the heart and not so much the imagination.
--Alexis