Even when I’m an angel, he looks for something to punish me for. “I swear, I’m not gay.” I wish I had a dad who didn’t care about that sort of thing. I don’t have a problem with anyone who’s gay, but I’m glad I’m not or he’d kill me.
My life would be easier if I died. I’ve thought about it a few times. I thought about killing myself. My pain would end. I’d be at peace, but then I think about my mom and how she needs me. I can’t leave her here with him, and that’s the only thing keeping me alive.
“I’m not going to stitch you up yet. You need to sit here and think about your next words. Or I’ll start cutting on something else, so you can never use it again.”
I rub my cheek against the blanket and stare at the white wall. There’s a family photo hanging there. It’s your typical summer beach vacation photo. I’m standing beside Mom, and she’s standing next to Dad. Everyone has their arms around each other, and the waves are crashing against our feet as our toes are hiding in the sand.
It was a decent escape from reality because my dad didn’t touch me while we were there. He couldn’t since Mom was with us and not at work like she is right now. The picture blurs when a fresh wave of tears fill my eyes. Everything about my life is a lie.
We aren’t a cookie cutter family no matter what my dad tries to make everyone think. We live in a two-story house in the suburbs. There’s a pool in the backyard. A white picket fence with an American flag notched on the porch rail, and a Labrador retriever who is currently in his crate, so he doesn’t interrupt my punishment.
He’s barking and growling, doing his best to escape to help me, but no one can help me. I’m stuck in this nightmare as long as my dad is alive, and there is no way in hell I will ever leave him alone with my mother.
Right as I feel a wet cloth against my back, the downstairs door slams shut. My dad gasps, stopping his usual aftercare routine. He grips my neck and pulls me up off the bed. “Who the fuck is that?” he growls into my ear, twisting the scalpel deeper into my shoulder.
“Guys! I’m home,” my mom calls out, and my heart slams against my chest. No! She can’t be home. She can’t be. “I got off work early. I brought home Thai for dinner. I know how much you two love Thai!”
I hear each shoe hit the ground with a hard clack as she takes off her stiletto heels.
Dad throws my head against the bed and presses it against the mattress. His breath is hot against my cheek as he leans down. “You better keep your mouth shut, you hear me? You’ll be fucking sorry if you don’t.”
I don’t think I could speak anyway. There’s static zipping through my veins, and the pain engulfing me can’t be felt; not like the scalpel sticking out of my shoulder. My head is fuzzy, my vision blurs, and sweat stings my eyes. I don’t have the energy to blink the salt away.
I’m too tired.
“What’s everyone doing?” my mom’s voice grows skeptical when all she hears is silence.
“Stay quiet,” Dad shushes me, placing a hand over my mouth as he watches the door.
This could be my only chance of freedom. I need to save myself. Mom will save me, right?
“Guys? This isn’t funny. You’re worrying me.” The floorboards creak outside the door, telling me she’s in the hallway upstairs.
Dad pushes off me and messes up his hair, then untucks his shirt. He looks like he’s been sleeping. “Don’t say a word, or the next thing I stitch will be your lips,” he warns.
He walks to the door, and his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath he takes before unlocking it and peeking his head out. “Rachel, honey, you’re home early.” I watch as he fake yawns. “Sorry, darling. I was napping.”
“In the guest bedroom?” she asks.
“Yes, you know how sometimes I can’t rest on our mattress. I thought I’d try it in here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. We should really look into getting a new mattress. With all the long hours you pull at the hospital, you need sufficient rest.”
Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with his mattress. He can’t sleep because he’s in here with me, marring