"We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves."
- Francois De La Rouchefoucauld.
(Indigo Cortez's pov.)
I stare up at the cieling my mind to busy to sleep even though my eyelids are heavy. I roll over and groan the bruise on my abdomen sending out waves of pain and torture through my body. I close my eyes holding back the tears stinging my eyes. "Indigo, get your ass in here." My fathers voice says calmy and coldly. I sigh and brush away the unfallin tears as I crawl slowly out of bed.
I pull a pair of sweatpants and a sweater on, I walk slowly out of my room, and into the living room, My father sits on the couch. His entire body smells of achohal and smoke. I back myself against the wall, he gets up and stalks towards me. I clench all my muscels together and close my eyes so I don't see his face.
I hear the air hiss as he swings, his fist connecting with my chest, and I hear the breath whosh out of my lungs. I fall to my knees and hold back tears as he kicks and swings. "Take off your shirt," I still knowing what he is about to do. He yanks me up by my collar and forcefully takes my shirt off. I bite my fist as he presses the hot cigarette to my back again and again.
I bite harder on my fist, making sure not to make a sound so it isn't worse. He kicks me in the side once more,"go." I get to my feet, grab my shirt from the bloody floor, and walk to the bathroom. I lock the door behid my and begin to clean and bandage the wounds I can reach.
I turn the cool water on in the sink and press a wet cloth gently to the burns hissing and screaming at the pain, but I have to clean them. I then turn the shower on and step inside, letting the cold water turn the burns to a dull ache. Blood runs down the drain, I cry holing myself tight.
I know I could end it all and the pain would go away, I know where the knives are, I know where my razor blade is hidden. I pull the blade out from beneath the sink and drag it slowly and harshly against my thighs and wrists, causing blood to erupt out of my body. This is the only thing I have control over, I choose to live or to die. I don't know what possess me to put the razor back instead of ending it all and dying happily.
He would love that though and then he would beat her in turn, I have to protect her so I cannot die. I clean and bandage my self-made wounds. Smiling at the dull pain they cause, knowing I will always have this and only this to be in charge of myself. I step out of the shower. I dress gently, trying not to cause anymore pain to my body. I crawl back into my bed and take a gulping chug from the vodka bottle hidden beneath my bed, knowing its the only way I will sleep. The only thing that drives away the memories, the only thing that gives me power to function.
Author Notes: If you ever need to talk I am here.
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United States • 20 years old