Asher’s POV:
Saturday came around way to fast for my liking. unlike almost every other teen on the planet, I hate the weekend. All it means to me is that I have to stay in this house, with that monster, the entire time with absolutely no escape. But for some reason I don’t feel as terrified as I normally would this time of the week, and I know why.
I know it’s because of Jay, because of the past four days. It’s really wasn’t that much, only a pathetic 1 hour 15 minutes a day, but that was all I needed. I loved it, I loved him just being there, just sitting there with me. I didn’t even mind his friend Amy, she can be a bit much at times but I think she just has a very wild and free spirit in her, something I admire. I barely talk when were on the roof, just listen, I listen to his voice and how he can get so emotionally attached to his arguments with Amy, how he could be laughing one second then arguing the next and back to laughing again. I loved watching his smiles and the way his hair would fall just in front of his eyebrows. I loved the life in him, who he was so care free and happy, how his forest wild eyes reflected the love he still has in his heart. I know that’s probably creepy at some point, but I don’t care.
Ive done basically nothing all day. I haven’t left my room in fear, although the fear of staying in my room is still present, and I’ve tried to busy myself with homework. I had to try to get my mind off of everything, of my thoughts and my dad. If I stay in my head for to long I’m going to end up feeling the weight of the world on my back, and consequently end up having a panic attack. It happens every time, I have nothing but my own mind in this empty room, and with my mind comes all the memories and negative thoughts telling me how much of a pathetic wast of space I am.
I sit on the wooden dusty floor of my room, books spread out all over the floor and a pen clicking in my hand. I moved from my mattress because I got to tired on it, even though I had springs coming out of the thing. I refuse to sleep, the torture that comes with it isn’t worth it. I stare at the page for a good 10 minutes, trying to pice together what I want to say for this essay, trying to put my finger on the words that are on the tip of my tongue but refuse to come out. I only have a single paragraph done of my English essay due on Monday. Thats just nice.
My stomach growls and feels like its crushing in on its self as It begs for some food, but its a pain I’m used to it though. From three years of almost no eating my stomach has gotten smaller considerably, it doesn’t take much for me to be full and I can go a long time without food and not have much of a problem with it anymore, I just ignore it.
“BITCH GET YOUR WHORE ASS DOWN HERE!!!”My fathers voice booms from downstairs, sending me into the all to familiar hole of fear and terror I can never crawl out of. Nevertheless I still shoot to my feet and Ignoring the dizziness of getting up to fast, and bolt down the stairs to the demon himself.
“y-yes?”My voice is embedded with fear of him, weak and trembling. He was sitting on the couch, non of his friends or business partners were here. Just him sprawled across the couch with a empty bottle of whisky in his hand, along with many more beer cans scattered across the floor.
“you….you little bitch,”He slurred out and slowly got up from the couch and stumbled his way to me.
“You took everything from me.”his calm voice had a threatening and psychotic tone to it, making me trembling to my core as he made his way closer, but my feet were rooted to the floor and my knees threatening to give way under me.
“First you take Lila, YOU took her from me because you wanted to be some fucking discussing, faggot, WHORE!!!”I saw the first blow coming, but that didn’t do any good. The glass bottle of whisky came so fast I didn’t even register it hitting my arm and shattering into a thousand shards until I felt the searing pain erupt from my entire for arm. I let out an ear pairing cry as my arm flies to the wound, but it never got to cover my pain the least because he gripped my thin, fragile wrist to the point I though he would snap right off, and in the pain I prayed it would. With my wrist in his grasp he throws a hard punch to my already bruised ribs, and then to my stomach, and finally he back hands the side of my face before releasing me to fall to the ground. I instinctively curl my body as small as possible, clutching my stomach with my non injured arm, the familiar metallic taste of my blood floods my mouth.
“And now, You take my son from me.”His breathing is heavy and wheezy, but I know he’s not that tired, I know he isn’t done with me. He curls his finger into my hair and pulls up a fist full from my roots, Yanking my bloody face up to look at him.
“All because you’re a SELFISH, PATHETIC, PIECE OF SHIT!!!!”I felt his spit splatter on my face as he shouts those words. I can’t move with his hand in my hair, feeling like each hair is being yanked out. He tosses me to the floor again, my head coming into hard merciless contact with the hard wooden floor, sending me into a wave of pain dizziness and disorientation. The room spins for a bit before I can get a clear view, Dad was staring at me with his blood shot eyes, pure craze and madness in his eyes, and It terrifies me.
Fear shoots to my core, but instead of being rooted to the floor unable to move, I scramble to my feet as fast as I can with all the pain and blot for the stairs. Stumbling but quickly catching my self I make it up the stairs, his heavy threatening footsteps following me pushed more fear and adrenaline into my system and I make it to my room and slam the wooded door shut and lock it.
“YOU LITTLE BRAT!!! OPEN THIS DOOR BEFORE I KILL YOU!!!! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!”He pounds his entire body agains the fragile, old wood. The only thing I can think of is ways to stop him from reaching me. Not the cut on my arm from the glass as blood seeped through my shirt, not the pain in my ribs and stomach, Not the fact that only thing stopping me from passing out probably is the adrenaline pumping in my veins. Thinking fast, the pounding in the background, I drag my closet in front of the door and grab the old broom in the corner and lay it on the floor. One end of the broom is against the door, the other is against the wall opposite the door, the only way he can get in is if he manages to snap the broom in half! But the fear that he could over powers my logic.
The only thing I take is Zaks flash drive, shoving it in my pocket I struggle to open the window with only one arm, the other one cradling close to my chest. I get it open and gaze at the drop beneath my as my legs hang out. I can hardly see through the poring rain that had already soaked me, my hair plastered to my face. I heard a sharp, loud crack of wood behind me as the pounding continued. My broom haven’t given out just yet, but its wasn’t going to hold for much longer. With that though I don’t hesitate to push my butt off the edge.
As soon as my feet hit the floor my whole body cripples with the impact, But pain shoots from my right ankle, a scream almost escapes my mouth but sew my lips shut and try my best to absorb the pain like I have done so many times before.
I hear a loud crash from my room followed by him shouting every profanity in the book, he got into my room.
Dragging my self off the wet, puddle floor I try my best to limp as fast as I can away, as far away as possible. I don’t care about the rain or the cold, I don’t even know where I’m going to go so long as its away from my nightmare I left behind me. Ive only got out of there once before, but I got caught by all his people he has his claws wrapped around.
Squinting through the rain hitting my face and the cool wind, I pass street light after street light trying to keep most of my weight off my leg, still holding my bleeding arm to my chest with my hand clamped around my forearm as blood escapes through the cracks in my fingers and mix with the rain. I still feel the adrenaline and fear, but as It reduces the pain increases. after a few minutes I can just about lift my feet from the floor and look in a straight line, my body on the verge of collapse, until I does. Everything starts to spin around me as I make my decent to the hard ground. I see two blinding lights get larger, I hear the loud and unpleasant screech of tyres as the driver burst out the door screaming at the top of his lungs. I’m about tot give in and allow my heavy eyes lids to close, allow it to consume and for the pain to be gone, but a familiar voice sends them flying open again.
“OH SHIT!!! Did I just run someone over? OH MY GOD DID I KILL SOMEONE!!!?”Jays voice shouted over the car engine and the rain.
“N-no” I rasp out with the last of my energy.
“Wha-ASHER!!!”
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