Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
I was punished daily for her sins.
Whether I was awake or asleep.
He turned into a different man after her funeral. He was barely ever home and when he was, he was half the man he used to be. He was drunk more often than not, empty whiskey bottles littered the house, replacing the empty pill bottles my mother always left lying around.
Except to the outside world, he was still the perfect, doting stepfather.
I was only twelve years old but felt way older. I guess maybe my whole life had been that way. I went through more than any kid my age was supposed to.
But I never let that define me.
Thank God for my ballet instructor Susan, I couldn’t survive without my dancing. It was my escape from the Hell I had been through since that morning.
My only form of therapy.
All the parents and the kids knew what my mom did. We lived in a small town in Rhode Island, and nothing stayed behind closed doors. If I thought the kids alienating me before my mother decided to end her life, I was wrong. Now I pretty much lived in my own little world, where I lived and breathed ballet.
“You doing okay, Lexi?” Susan asked, pulling me away from my thoughts.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I nodded, stretching my leg up on the top barre.
“Everything okay at home?” she pried, walking over to adjust my posture.
I shrugged, not wanting to tell her the truth. I never told anyone what happened at home. Too scared to be judged, too terrified of what would happen, too afraid of the truth itself. So, I kept my mouth shut, it was easier that way.
“You know you can always talk to me, right?” she assured me, locking eyes with me through the full-length mirror.
I nodded again, smiling. Desperately wanting to take her up on her offer, but again frightened by the repercussions.
“You want to go through that new routine again?”
“I’d love that.” Breathing a sigh of relief the questioning was over.
For now, at least.
I spent the rest of the afternoon lost in the tranquil beauty of the music, running my routine till my legs were shaking. Susan dropped me off like she always did when I stayed late. Never letting me ride my bike home when it was dark, knowing it wasn’t safe.
Little did she know my house wasn’t either.
I walked into the pitch-black house, waving good-bye to Susan. It looked as if my stepdad hadn’t been home all day, which only meant he was drinking out tonight. I went straight into the shower, letting the warm water seep into my sore muscles. Stretching again before I went to bed.
I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. It never mattered how hard I ran myself ragged. How much I pushed every last muscle in my body, how exhausted and drained my joints were. I wouldn’t allow myself to drift off to sleep.
I would always wait.
It was better that way.
It wouldn’t take long until I felt him.
It. Never. Did.
“Baby…” I heard him whisper above me, the scent of strong liquor immediately assaulting my senses. “Baby, I miss you so much…”
I pretended I wasn’t there. I hummed Swan Lake in my head, getting lost in the symmetry and rhythm of the gentle lull of my movements. Reciting every last step in my mind. Picturing I’m the prima ballerina for some huge ballet company.
I didn’t hear him call me my mother’s name.
I didn’t listen to him telling me he loved her.
I didn’t pay any mind to the fact that he thought I was her.
My mother.
I just lost myself in my own thoughts, where it was safe, where I was loved, where no one could hurt me.
When he touched me. When I felt his hands all over my skin, clawing, invading, molesting. When I smelled his breath all over my face. Attacking every last fiber of my being.
I fall.
Over and over again.
I go into a dark place within myself, hiding in the black corners of my mind.
Waiting.
I could feel myself drifting, fading into nothing. Broken in two. A cold remnant of the little girl I once was. A figment of the innocence I used to have, turning into dust. I didn't exist anymore and I was nothing.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to fight him off.
I did none of those things. Nothing. I laid there, and took it. I let myself get used, played with as if I was nothing but his toy. Because in the end it didn't matter, the damage had already been done. Again and again for the past year. The first time he did it, he told me, promised me it would never happen again. Then, there he was, in my bed a few months later. Days became weeks, and weeks became months.
Now I'm alone with the monster almost daily.