Tired Of Surviving

by Naomi Amanda

  I wished that I could say yes but I knew that I couldn’t. I had only told them that I was meeting Laura. If I suddenly said I was staying over, Susan would give me shit for it. And I didn’t want to inconvenience her parents either. They’d have to call and convince Susan and I didn’t want to bother them.

  “I can’t,” I told her. “Susan will throw a fit. And she’s already fought with my father several times since yesterday.”

  “Please?” Laura begged. “These vacations won’t be complete without a sleepover. It won’t be a problem for my parents-”

  “My parents are out of station for work the whole week,” Logan pipped up. “Maybe you guys can stay at my house instead.”

  “Can I call Dayle?” Laura asked sheepishly and Logan chuckled, nodding. “Cool. I’ll go tell my mom to call your house and convince Susan.”

  She hopped off the bed and rushed out of the room. I turned to give Logan a withering look and he grinned, dissipating my anger.

  “You didn’t have to do that, you know?” I told him and he shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother them with the phone call either.”

  “But I’m so lonely in that house, Chey.” Logan pretended to sound sad, clinging to my arm like a child. “Won’t you stay with me?”

  I laughed and nodded, praying Laura’s parents would get approval. Maybe I needed it – a sleepover with friends to get away from the drama that was my family. Maybe all I needed was to be in Logan’s arms to feel better.

  “They said yes!” Laura skipped into the room, twirling around the room.

  “What’re you doing?” Logan asked her, trying not to crack up.

  “It’s a happy twirl,” she explained. “I’m leaving the happy dance for when I get into NYU.”

  “And we’re dorks.” He smirked as she went into her closet to pack clothes for us to change into.

  Laura called Dayle as soon as we left her house, promising her parents that we’d behave. I dialed Marika’s number when she put her phone down. Once Marika got permission, we told her to tell Ava and then meet us at Logan’s house. Laura and I both rode in Logan’s car, leaving ours in the driveway just in case Susan decided to check whether I really was at her house.

  “Want a beer?” Logan asked as soon as we entered his house and I shook my head.

  “I don’t ever want to have a hangover again.” I groaned at the memory and Logan laughed.

  “No one’s drinking that much, honey.” Laura rolled her eyes and took the beer that Logan handed her. “Maybe we can play spin the bottle when the rest arrive or truth or dare.”

  “Or maybe we can all take shots every time you roll your eyes,” Logan joked, pulling my back to his chest. “But then we’d all die of alcohol poisoning.”

  “Funny.” Laura gave him a dirty look then took a swing of the beer.

  After the rest of our friends arrived, the night was a blur for me. I couldn’t think about anything except my mother and what my grandmother had told me. I didn’t even drink any alcohol but my thoughts and emotions were all over the place. I couldn’t think straight. And at night, I couldn’t sleep even with Logan’s arms around me.

  Chapter 21

  The next day, Logan dropped us back to Laura’s house while everyone else went back home. He got out of the car and cupped my cheek, snapping me out of my daze.

  “You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?” he asked and I blinked at him, the tiredness weighing me down. “Maybe you should go home and sleep for a bit.”

  “Will you be able to drive home or should I take you?” Laura asked, looking concerned and I sighed.

  I might have been tired and out of it but I still remembered the call she had gotten from her parents the night before. They had asked her to come back home before lunch because they had to go to her aunt’s house. It was already noon so I knew dropping me home would waste her time.

  I shook my head quickly and forced a smile.

  “I can make it back on my own,” I told her and she seemed to believe me.

  So I waited for her to go back inside before I kissed Logan on the cheek and waved goodbye. Then I got into my car and drove back in the direction of my house.

  When I glanced in the review mirror, for a split second, I thought I saw Logan’s car following mine. I shook my head and looked again. There wasn’t a car behind me. I was seriously sleep deprived.

  I parked my car in the driveway and got out, shoving my phone and keys in my pocket. I quickly padded up the porch stairs, unable to keep my eyes open. Then I realized that the door was locked from the inside which meant I had to ring the bell and make my existence known.

  Groaning, I rang the doorbell. And as soon as the door swung open, Susan came into view with a white envelope in her hand. She had already torn it open. But I got just enough of a glimpse to see that it was addressed to me and I felt my heart jump to my throat.

  “Is that for me?” I asked, trying not to let her hear the shake in my voice.

  The shock of seeing an envelope addressed to me in her hand was enough to scare the sleepiness out of me. Dread filled my veins and I rubbed my sweaty palms against my jeans, trying to push the feelings away.

  “Want to explain this?” she asked before grabbing my arm.

  I felt her nails dig into my skin and I winced as she yanked me into the house. She shut the door and shoved me against it, making me bang my head against the door frame which in turn made stars blur my vision.

  “You’re just like your mother, you know that?” she hissed, pulling my hair to the side so hard that it was a wonder my hair didn’t rip off my scalp. “That sneaky secretive bitch is exactly who you’re turning out to be.”

  “W-what’re you talking about?” I managed to get out, despite the pain in my head.

  “You know what this is?” she asked, waving the envelope in front of my face. “A letter from Columbia University.”

  I felt all the air rush out of me. It was a letter either accepting me into their creative writing program or rejecting my early admission. ‘Why the hell had Susan opened it?’ would have been a good question if I hadn’t known what a psycho she was. She had obviously already read the letter and even though I badly wanted to know whether I had been rejected or accepted, I refused to ask her.

  I felt a surge of anger that she had opened my mail without permission. She had no right to tear open a letter addressed to me. I had been waiting for that letter for several weeks. I had imagined the feeling of opening the letter, the excitement and fear. I had imagined sitting in the comfort of my room when I opened it and then the phone call to Laura and Logan to tell them the news if I had gotten in. But she had ruined it.

  “Who said you could apply here?” she asked and I gritted my teeth. “Answer me!”

  I flinched at her thundering voice and she smirked as if she had accomplished something.

  “I paid for the application with my allowance,” I answered, my voice raspy as I tried not to let the pain show on my face.

  She finally let go of my hair and my hand instantly flew to my scalp to assess any damage. She grabbed my arm and flung me toward the coffee table and I cried out as my back hit the edge of the table. Pain pierced through my back, tearing into my shirt and I gasped, staring at the floor as my vision turned hazy. I felt something trickle down my back but I didn’t have the time to wonder what it was. Susan grabbed me by the chin, tilting my head back hard enough for it to hit the table behind me.

  “I asked,” she hissed. “Who said you could apply here? Not where you got the money from.”

  “I didn’t think it’d be an issue.” I hiccupped through the tears that were streaming down my face.

  “An issue?” She let out a cackle and I wished for it to be over. “You never do think before you act, do you?”

  I wanted to laugh without any humor. She thought that I didn’t think before I acted? I had spent sixteen years of my life tiptoeing in my own house in the fear of getting hurt. I thought before I reached for a slic
e of bread. I thought before I spoke to my own father or brother. I thought before I stepped in or out of the house. But when had she ever thought before she hit me?

  My only mistake had been that I hadn’t snuck to the mailbox to find my mail before she took it. But then again, I hadn’t expected the mail to come so soon.

  “I think you need to learn a lesson so you never go behind my back again,” she snapped.

  She turned around a reached for the belt on the kitchen counter. She had obviously had time to plan out exactly how she was going to attack me. She yanked me up by the arm and my breath caught in my throat at her first whip. I tried not to let out a sound as her leather belt sliced through my skin.

  Whip.

  Whip.

  Whip.

  All I could hear were the sounds of the belt as it hit me, the friction between the leather and my skin cutting through me. My leg, my arm, my back, my stomach. I wasn’t sure which part of my body she had left unharmed. After what seemed like the longest time, I couldn’t hold myself up any longer. My knees gave way underneath me and I fell to the ground, my knee colliding with the marble underneath me. I would have cried in pain but I didn’t have it in me. All I could hear was my ragged breath as I fought to keep my eyes opened.

  “Get up!” she screamed at me and my head spun, my vision darkening. “Get the hell up!”

  I felt her hand collide with my cheek, harder than usual, her ring slicing my skin, deeper this time. I managed to lift my hand enough to touch my cheek, the color red filling my blurred vision as I stared at my hand.

  “When will you learn that this is my house?” she asked, bringing her heel down on my ankle so hard, she probably could have broken it.

  But I was already losing consciousness, ready to drop to the floor. I fought to keep my eyes open. I knew I had to stay awake. I couldn’t pass out. If I did, I lost and she won. And I was too afraid to find out what she’d do to me if I did lose consciousness.

  “When will you learn that this is family, not yours?” she continued, pulling me up by the collar of my shirt.

  I heard the sound of my shirt tear and I tried to stand but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even focus on her face but I knew that it had to be twisted into something inhuman.

  “When will you see that you’re just a mistake that happened years ago because your mother was such a slut?” Her words cut through me harder than the belt had and I felt a fresh set of tears stream down my face.

  The salt in my tears burned as they ran down my cut cheek. I swallowed against the lump in my throat that was making it impossible to breathe. I looked up at Susan, my eyes finding hers when she suddenly dropped me to the floor.

  I watched as she rushed over to the window and I knew I wouldn’t have a better chance than that moment to get away from her. While she peeked through the curtains, I scanned the floor for my letter. I spotted it under the coffee table and reached for it despite my body that screamed in pain.

  I looked back at her but she was still looking out the window. That was when I heard a car door closing. My father was home.

  I felt my fingers curl around the letter and once I had a good grip of it, I crawled toward the stairs. I held onto the railing and pulled myself up. Then I half dragged myself up the stairs when the bell rang.

  Susan turned around, only to find me halfway up. Her face turned into something uglier and I looked away, trying to get away faster.

  “At least now you know your place, whore,” I heard her hiss.

  I was at the door of my room when I heard her open the front door. And I had locked myself in the room by the time I heard it close.

  I slipped onto the floor, my back against the door and cried into my hands. My letter sat next to me, my blood staining the envelope. I quietened down as I heard footsteps come up the stairs. I could tell that they were both my father’s and Susan’s. So I held my breath, afraid that they’d hear me crying but they didn’t. I listened as they crossed my bedroom and into another, shutting the door.

  Fear, pain and a mix of other emotions surged through me, settling in my stomach that was churning. I had to get out of the house. I couldn’t stay there any longer. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had had enough.

  I felt myself dry heave as I pulled myself up again and limped over to my underwear drawer. I started digging through my clothes, throwing them all out onto the floor until I felt the picture of my mother in my hand.

  I pulled out the picture and looked at her. She was grinning at the camera, looking extremely happy, like she had found the perfect man and was living a happy life. And my mind flashed to Logan. I had found the perfect boy, too. But I couldn’t even be happy. I couldn’t find that happiness no matter how hard I tried because every time I thought something was going right, Susan ruined it.

  I flipped the picture over and stared at the name and address.

  I had to find her. I needed her. I needed my mother.

  Chapter 22

  I dug into my pocket and speed dialed Logan. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, his voice light. “Everything okay?”

  The sound of his voice was enough to make me start crying again. I hiccupped into the phone and I heard a shuffling sound on his side, like he was getting off the couch.

  “Chey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Please come get me,” I managed to choke out.

  I heard his feet shuffle, keys jingle. Then I heard a door slam shut and then a car’s engine.

  “I’ll be there in five.” He cut the call.

  I grabbed the picture of my mother and the letter. I shoved my phone into my pocket and reached into my other for my car keys. I felt fear rip through me when I didn’t feel them and I closed my eyes, cursing myself. They had probably fallen out when Susan had been throwing me around.

  I stuck my ear to my door, listening for any sounds before I opened the door. I peeked through and heard muffled voices coming out of my father’s study. They were obviously fighting again.

  Taking my chance, I tiptoed out of my room. I winced as pain shot through my ankle and knee but I tried not to make a sound. I held the railing as I made my way downstairs, trying my hardest not to fall down the stairs.

  When I reached down, I looked around for my car keys but I couldn’t find them so I decided to leave them. I opened the front door as quietly as I could and stepped out. The sun blinded me as soon as I closed the door behind me but I didn’t let that stop me. I knew that they’d hear the door close so I stumbled down the porch and into the front yard. I ignored the pain in my legs as I pushed myself forward, slow at first and then faster until I was running toward the main road.

  Logan’s car came into view and he skidded to a stop. I didn’t give him time to get out because I still feared that someone would see me. So I pulled the door opened and got in.

  “Chey!” he exclaimed as soon as he saw me.

  He reached out to touch me but I moved away. A wounded expression crossed his face but I didn’t have the energy to feel bad.

  “I need to find my mom,” I croaked. “Please.”

  “What happened?!” he demanded, his eye wide.

  “Drive,” I told him. “Just drive.”

  He complied, taking a sharp U-turn. I turned around, just to check whether Susan or my father had come outside to see where I was going but neither of them had.

  Logan drove to his house, dialing Laura’s number as he drove. He clicked on his ear piece as soon as she picked up her phone and told her to come over to his house as soon as she could. When he put down the phone, he drove in silence, glancing at me multiple times with a look filled with worry. When he parked his car in his garage, he got out quickly and rushed over to my side. I stepped out and took a staggering step. He caught me by my arm and I winced in pain. He quickly let go and then scooped me up in his arms.

  “Logan-” I started but he ignored me and rushed into his house.

  As soon as we were in, he rushed
into the living room and placed me on the couch. I watched as he rushed to the kitchen to get a pack of ice. But then I looked down at the couch. It looked so clean and new and I was getting my blood all over it. So I pushed myself off of it and slid to the floor.

  “What the heck are you doing?” he asked me and I felt my breath get caught in my throat.

  “I don’t want to ruin your couch-”

  “Chey! You’re freaking bleeding from like twenty places! I don’t care about the freaking couch,” he yelled and I flinched at the sound of his voice that echoed in his enormous home.

  He turned around, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He let out an exasperated groan and then looked at me. His expression instantly softened and he knelt down beside me, gently pressing the bag of ice against my cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. We’re going to fix you up, okay? Then when Laura’s here, you can tell us both what happened. Then we’ll go look for your mom. Is that okay?”

  I nodded, blinking back tears. Not because he had yelled at me but because he was taking everything better than most others would.

  He carried me up to his room and brought out his first aid kit. He first used an antiseptic to clean the cuts on my face. He told me that I could squeeze his arm if it hurt but I couldn’t feel a thing as I stared into his eyes. I couldn’t feel the burn of the medicine he put on after that either because all I could think about was how carefully he was treating my wounds. And all I knew was that I didn’t deserve him.

  “Change into these.” He handed me a pair of shorts. “You’re bleeding through your jeans.”

  I took the shorts he gave me and turned around to make my way to his bathroom when he caught my arm. I felt his gaze bore into my back and I squirmed.

  “Your shirt is torn and your back is cut,” he told me but I couldn’t feel a thing.

  I already knew. I also knew what was coming next.

  “Take it off,” he told me softly. “You can cover your, uh, front. I promise I won’t look.”