Chapter 2 Go Away

• I don’t really know what my father looked like and looking at my features I couldn’t see him. I looked a lot like my mom. She’s slender and tall, has straw-colored hair that falls just below her chin and brown eyes. They were once vibrant and full of life but now they’re dull from years of living in a loveless abusive relationship. She had practically copy and pasted when she had me. I have long silky blonde hair and big brown eyes. Sometimes I can see flecks of gold in my eyes. The only difference between us is that I only stand an inch over five feet. While the woman on my mom’s side had slender figures, I was curvier, thicker, and my large breasts and fat ass always caught unwanted attention.
• My face was a little round and I was always mistaken for being younger than my actual age. My mom always towered over me and Greg, my mom’s boyfriend. He was shorter than her but bulkier than her and definitely stronger than me. He could throw me across the room effortlessly. Trust me, I know, it’s happened before. He had short brown stringy hair, a thick mustache, and a mole on his neck.
• My mom met Greg when I was just ten years old. He used to have a muscular build but was sporting a beer belly these days. I sit up and stare at the moonlight spilling into my room. The rain continued to come down with a vengeance. The sound of drunken footsteps stomped down the hallway and pulled me from the trance the combination of the moonlight and the sound of rain had me in. I know what’s about to happen and despite the urgency rushing through my body, despite the internal screaming that I need to get up and run, I do the opposite. I freeze.
• Please.
• Please go away.
• Please please go away.
• “I know you’re awake! Open the damn door!” Greg yelled.
• He thrusts his shoulder into the door and I can hear him grunt as he rams into it a second time. When the door doesn’t budge, he starts banging on the door. When I finally come to my senses, adrenaline pushed me out of bed and I’m on my feet. I run toward my dresser and grab my bag on the floor next to it. I unzip it as quickly as I can and throw an extra pair of clothes in and a hoodie. I’m wearing black basketball shorts and an oversize t-shirt but if I wear my hoodie now I’ll have nothing to wear for school.
• Quickly, I make my way to the window and throw it open. A cold breeze rushes in and caresses my skin. The banging gets louder and I know he’s ramming into my door again. Goosebumps break out across my skin and I sling my bag over my shoulder. I threw my legs out of the window and slid out onto the roof. Water pelts my head and began to soak into my shirt. A shiver makes it’s way down my spine from the cold rain.
• I’ve done this a number of times but my heart still hammers as if it were the first time. My room is on the second floor and I tell myself the jump isn’t too bad. I haven’t broken a leg yet but there’s always a first time for everything. I close my eyes and pray that day isn’t today. I’m a werewolf but I’m slow to heal. Any cracked bones I get won’t heal back as quickly since I don’t have my wolf yet.
• The banging gets louder and I swallow and jump as the door slams open. When my feet touch wet soil but I don’t have time to push my stomach down out of my throat. I take off running and don’t stop. My surroundings blur as I run through the route I’ve run through a million times. By the time I make it to school grounds, I’m soaked and out of breath. I should just throw my clothes on in the gym but the promise of a hot shower is too good to refuse right now.
• My feet are numb from running through the woods to get here and my fingers are turning blue from the cold. My lips are quivering and my teeth chatter as I rush towards the locker room. Luckily for me, it’s fall and not winter and the chances of hypothermia are a lot lower. My worst enemy right now would be pneumonia. I’m careful not to draw attention to myself. When I slip into the locker rooms, there isn’t a soul in sight and I count my lucky stars.
• I’ve been using these locker rooms for four years now. In middle school, I didn’t always have access to the showers in the locker rooms. I just turned 18 and I’m still running from Greg. As I got older I got better at hiding the bruises and Greg got a little smarter. He was more careful of where he hit me. I rip the wet clothes sticking to my body and throw them in the trash. I don’t want to chuck them but I have nowhere to stash them and someone will throw them away by the end of the day.
• I turn on the shower and slip under the water when steam starts to rise. I sigh contently and let the water warm me before I wash. I’d stay under the water longer if I could but I know I’m short on time. I ignore the yellowing bruises that will soon be covered by new bruises as I wash myself. When I’m done, I shut off the water and dry off.