• Carefully, she made her way down the hallway, a backpack carefully concealed behind her. She froze as a door opened and her name way called. The bag slid down her arm to the floor as she pressed herself to the wall, hiding from the danger around the corner.

    “April! Get your lazy a** out here, I know you're there!” a drunken yelled out before coughing violently and set some type of bottle onto a table.

    Sighing, she walked into the living room and tried to delay the inevitable by examining the tiny living room. A brown rocking chair sat by the window, and a small blue couch rested comfortably against the wall. She laid gentle fingers on the peeling burgundy wallpaper, outlining the scrapes. She then straightened, facing the person in the middle of the room. He wore a look of amusement on his smirking face.

    He took a step toward her, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of her doom. Recognition then fear crossed her face and she took a shaky step back, resulting in another step forward. They danced around the room this way, step up...step back...step up...step back. This went on for a few minutes before he tired of their tango. He quickly grabbed for her wrist and slung her to the ground.

    She cried out when her rib made a loud cracking noise as she hit the chair. Wincing, she attempted to pull herself up, only to be slammed back to the ground. Silent tears ran down her bruised cheeks as he leaned down to her level.

    “Listen here, April,” he spat out her name as if it were poison, “if you ever try to leave again, you'll get it much worse than this!” she gagged when his wasted breath hit her.

    All she could manage was a pitiful nod and wait for him to stand up and march to his bedroom. When he did stand, he gave her one last hard kick to the stomach before storming to his room and slamming the door.

    She breathed a sigh of relief, then winced, instantly regretting it. A small coughing fit overcame her and a small amount of blood ran from the corners of her mouth. Applying light pressure to her ribs, she almost cried out, saving herself by biting her bottom lip until she tasted a copper flavor. With some effort, she pulled herself to a sitting position, leaning against the offensive chair. A tear rolled down her cheek as she rubbed her sore stomach, grimacing as pain shot through her whole body. She was lucky this time, there wouldn't be too much to cover up. She sighed, her plan to run away after school had failed.

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    She'd been headed the opposite way than she usually did to get home, a quick plan forming in her mind. Get to the highway, follow it until the second light at Hollow Man's Drive, take a right to get to Northview, then hopefully find somewhere to rest after that. Unfortunately, her dad chose that day to get his refill of liquor and cigarettes. Of course, he spotted her and demanded for her to get into the car. When she had refused, he got out, grabbed her hair, and dragged her into the back seat with the promise to fix this little problem later.

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    So now here she was, pathetically attempting to stand up. After about twelve tried, she finally succeeded and continued her journey to the bathroom. She flinched at the ugly bruise forming on the left side of her face, the pain resurfacing. After laying some ointment on the bruise and the few other smaller bruises on her ride side, she lifted her shirt for inspection. She grazed a hand over the yellow spot hovering over her right ribs and the large red mark in the center of her stomach. Opening a cabinet, she pulled out a large roll of wrap and tape and began to mummify her midsection. When her painful first aid was complete, she inspected her handiwork that dragged herself out of the bathroom, not bothering to shut off the light.

    She pulled her backpack up off the ground and slowly made her way to her room. A table-side lamp was flicked on and she pulled out her chair while opening a drawer and pulling out a worn journal. The date decorated the top of the page and 'Dear Me' was written neatly under it. In the most eligible handwriting she could manage while shaking, she attempted to journal about everything that had happened that day.

    After about fifteen minutes of writing, she signed 'April Fray' at the bottom of the page then closed the journal just as another tear escaped from her. Once that one tear came, she couldn't stop the flow, they kept pouring down. She cried for her mother, her father, the world...never for herself. She couldn't stop her life, she had to let it run its course. When she finally got them calmed down to a light hiccup, her side had started hurting again and she was wheezing

    Somehow she managed to make it to her bed and cover herself with a light blanket. She shut off the light and quietly drifted off to sleep, imagining her perfect life, but definitely not dreaming it. Nothing is ever that simple.

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    I was running...something, or someone, was chasing me. I'm not sure where I was, only that I had the urge to escape, my instincts to run kicking in. My heart was racing, my footsteps pounding in the silence. A scream rose in my throat as a pain ripped through my side. The scream was released as I saw a deep gash, oozing with dark blood.

    “April,”

    I jumped when I heard my name, holding back the sense to run and stopping instead...turning in circles searching for the source of the voice.

    “April!”

    It was louder now, as if the person was walking towards me.

    Something grabbed my hand and I screamed, whipping around to face the person. I studied the face in front of me. Black hair, grey jacket, light blue eyes...almost silver. My eyes searched his, trying to find who this person was. I didn't have any memory of ever seeing them before...then why did they seem so familiar.

    “You need to wake up...it's not time. Forget everything,” Whoever the person was placed a hand over my eyes and I felt myself loosing sight of his face...wait, whose face? Where am I? Why can't I see anything? Hello? Anyone?!

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    “April! Get up, you've got school! Cover them bruises on your face and get going!” she jumped out of bed just as her father's hand slammed down where she had been laying moments before.

    She was too caught up in her relief to notice him facing her and raising his hand once again. Next thing she knew, she was on the floor holding her face in her hands and watching him slam the door. She winced as she stood up, her body protesting the motion, but ignored it and went to the bathroom. She set more ointment on the bruises and set her cover-up on the counter. Gasping, she started to pull up her nightshirt but stopped when it refused to move from her left side. Her eyes widened as she looked down and saw blood, hers probably, coating the side of the shirt...there was so much, she almost missed the ripped cloth. Taking a deep breath, she slowly peeled away the fabric and watched as a long cut appeared.

    It was nasty. I went from about her third to last rib all the way to her hip and then some. The edges were jagged and threads from her shirt were sticking out everywhere. She grabbed a pair of tweezers and removed all the threads that she could see before wetting a washcloth and carefully rubbing at it...removing any dried blood and thread.

    After that task was completed, she put on the ointment used on her face and graciously applied it to the area. She peeled away the wrap and grimaced at the bruise that showed itself. She layered on the ointment before re wrapping her ribs and, after laying a piece of her shirt over it, wrapped the wound.

    She walked back to her room, removed her blood-stained shorts and put on a loose-fitting t-shirt and jeans before slipping on her shoes, grabbing her backpack and walking out the door. She pocketed the few bills she snatched from her father's wallet and made her way to school.

    When she arrived, she got a few shocked glances, but other than that....she was spared any attention. Whispers ceased to be as she walked past the school of people and headed into the brick building in front of her. She froze when she saw her reflection in the door and smacked herself mentally.

    A bruise flaunted itself underneath her left eye, while the eye was slightly swollen. She brushed back her blond hair and winced when she rubbed a healing scrape. Her hand flew to her back pocket and groaned when she realized her cover-up was still sitting on the bathroom counter.

    “April!” a voice shouted before she felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped.

    “Oh gosh, Jenna! Don't scare me like that,” she said in a shaky voice, hitting her friend lightly on the arm. “By the way, you wouldn't happen to have brought your cover-up, would you? Dad and I had been playing with the softball and, of course, I missed and got hit.”

    “Of course! When do I not? And girl, you should be more careful, people are going to start thinking your abused or something,” the other girl gave a sympathetic glance before reaching into her purse and pulling out both liquid and power cover-up. “Choose your weapon.”

    She grabbed the liquid and Jenna quickly produced a sponge to go along with it. The girl murmured a thanks and offered a smile before jogging off to the restrooms to conceal the throbbing bruise. Then, it was time to face the rest of the school...wasn't life great?