Page 6 of Shattered Silence Duet

I brush my teeth and head to the basement. I hate it down here. It’s the worst one I’ve been in with its cement walls and damp cement floor. It even has a gross puddle in the corner. I have a small worn mattress in the opposite corner that was here when we moved in a couple months ago. Several springs are poking through the material, so I have to sleep in an awkward position to avoid them stabbing me as I sleep. It normally doesn’t work too well though, as I often wake up with pink scratches along my side and back.

Beside my bed, there’s a wooden crate flipped upside where I’m allowed an alarm clock and a cup of water. The alarm clock is new. It’s so I could get up in time for school. Along the other wall is another crate with my only other clothes on it. Two pairs of pants, a t-shirt, a sweater and a couple pairs of underwear and a few pairs of socks. I look at my bed, at my blanket that is thinner than paper and my pillow that’s lumpy and almost as thin. As a shiver rolls through my body, I wish, not for the first time, that I had big fluffy blankets and pillows down here to keep me warm.

I lay in bed thinking about the day and the two nice men I had met. Jasper, my guardian angel with his kind searching green eyes, and Mr. Hargrove, my anchor, with his caring and helpful attitude. As I start to drift off to sleep, I realize, despite the pain in my arm, I feel happier than I’ve ever felt before. And it was because of hope.

That was a sobering thought. Hope was a bad thing to have. I’d felt it in the past and it always ended up making me feel worse than before.

I had hope when my father told me he’d be back for me, but never came home.

I had hope when my mother introduced me to her first boyfriend, thinking that he was there to take care of me like my father used to, but he didn’t.

I had hope when my older brother said he’d take care of me, but he’d lied.

And I had hope every time we moved that I would get a fresh start, or at least my own bedroom. A real one. One with a window, a closet and maybe, if I was lucky, my own bathroom instead of the bucket in the corner I had to use between allowed visits to the bathroom upstairs. I knew the basement door would be locked by now, keeping me in my prison until my mother let me out for school in the morning. That was always the routine, locked up like some sort of wild animal.

Yes, hope was a dangerous thing for me to have. School wouldbe just another crushed dream. And with that realization, I doze off to a fitful night’s sleep, like the other thousands I’d had before.

Chapter 4

Mina

The blaring of my alarm pulls me into consciousness, and as I reach to switch it off, a stabbing pain shoots through my arm and shoulder, a painful reminder of yesterday’s events. I clutch my elbow, trying to keep my arm still while I try to take deep breaths. When the pain eases, I sit up and inspect the wound, but can’t see anything through the gauze. At least I didn’t bleed through it. When I try to touch the surrounding area, I almost throw up from the pain. It’s swollen and extremely tender to the touch.Dammit.

I’ll have to see if there is anything in the bathroom I can use to help heal it. Since I knew from firsthand experience that my mother wouldn’t provide me with any antibiotics or pain medication, it was up to me to keep it as clean as possible to prevent it from getting worse.

Seeing the time, I realize I need to get moving so I’m not late for school. When I get to the basement door, I sigh in relief, finding it unlocked. I’m not sure when she unlocked for me, but I’m pleased I don’t have to wait.

Glancing in the mirror, I see the ends of my hair matted with blood from yesterday’sincident. I let out a deep breath of frustration. Washing it in the sink is never fun but I don’t have a choice, Ihaven’t been able to have a proper bath or shower in over a decade. However, I do make sure that every day I get access to the bathroom, I thoroughly clean myself with soap in the sink. It’s just very time consuming. Not like I had anything better to do… before now, that is.

Washing my hair this morning is particularly grueling thanks to my sore arm. By the time I’m done, my shoulder is throbbing and I can barely move my arm. With no hair dryer, I leave my hair down to let it dry while I walk to school. I didn’t want to put those stupid pigtail braids in again. I knew my mother was trying to make me appear more juvenile than I was. I didn’t understand her request yesterday, but at the time I thought she was taking me to college, not high school. Not like that’s any better.

As I suspected, there’s nothing in this bathroom to help with my arm besides regular soap. By the time I’ve cleaned and re-wrapped my arm, I’ve almost passed out five times from the pain. Mother was getting creative with such a small looking injury that induced maximum pain. It was probably Jeff who had the bright idea of using that bottle opener. I never knew where she found these guys, but they all had different styles of punishment for my ‘behavior problems’.

I am never sure how I’m supposed to act, I just know that whatever I do seems to be wrong. My mother constantly told me that she was punishing me to help me, to help rid the demon from my body. I didn’t understand what she meant, I didn’t feel like I had a demon inside me, if anything, she’s the one who’s fighting some sort of inner demon. But I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t tell anybody that. And for all I knew, she was right. It was my fault that she had to punish me. If I could justbe better,then she would love me.

Shaking myself out of those thoughts, I get dressed, before grabbing my bag and heading to the kitchen, hoping I could actually get some food this morning. I was used to a lack of food but I didn’t have a single thing to eat yesterday. My stomach rumbles as if it agrees.

Unfortunately, my mother is standing in the kitchen waiting for me, making my stomach drop at the sight of her, all thoughts of food temporarily forgotten.

“Hair!” she yells straight away. I quickly start braiding my hair in two pigtails, thankful I have hair ties on my wrists already. “You’re leaving early, aren’t you?” I wanted to make sure I had enough time to get to school, which starts in an hour and a half, but as usual, I can’t reply.

Frowning at me, she continues. “Well, I suppose I’d rather you arrive on time than get a phone call from the principal because your fat ass couldn’t get there fast enough. Alright, what are you waiting for? Go!” She waves her hand toward the front door. I hesitate, my eyes moving to the counter, hoping to grab a banana for breakfast.

When she sees where I’m looking, she narrows her eyes. “Sinners don’t get food. If you get home on time today, you can have something to eat tonight. You could do without food for a bit longer, anyway.” She looks my body up and down in disgust, as if I’m not wasting away from hunger.

“GO!” She yells again when I don’t move. This time I don’t hesitate, throwing on my backpack despite the pain. I quickly slip my shoes on and exit as fast as I can, closing the door quietly behind me.

As I move towards the sidewalk, the first thing I notice is how cold it is today. I have no sweater or jacket. I hope my mother will realize I need one soon, as it’s still early fall and the weather will continue to get colder. There is no way I could ask her for one. The last time I figured out a way to ask her for something was when I got my first period and needed pads, and that ended with me being stuck in bed for three days from the beating.

When I get further down the street and my house is no longer in view, I stop to pull out the extra pair of socks I had shoved in my bag and bend to stuff them in the ends of my shoes. I try taking a few steps and smile.Much better.I begin walking again and use my good arm to pull my braids out. I want my hair to dry and it wouldtake all day if I kept it braided. Unfortunately, my wet hair is making me even colder, forcing me to wrap my arms around myself and shiver. I just have to get to school, then I’ll be okay.

As I turn a corner, I finally see the school and let out a small breath of relief. I made it in time. The closer I get, the more I notice the other students. I’d never seen so many teenagers in person before and it’s slightly terrifying. Yesterday I really hadn’t seen many outside of my one attempt to go into a class.

Remembering my mother’s warning, I keep my eyes down and head straight for the main door, planning to go to my safe space in the library and away from all these people. The next thing I know, something large slams into me, knocking me to the ground before landing on top of me. I feel the grass under my fingers, which means I’d flown at least three feet when I was tackled.

What the fudge?I internally groan. Luckily I landed on my back but my arm is screaming in pain from being jostled so badly. That’s when thepersonon me starts to move and I realize I’ve been tackled by a guy.Holy hell, he’s big!Somehow he’s managed to get his arm around me and he looks down into my wide eyes and smiles, causing me to shiver. This guy gives me a bad feeling.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous, funny, running into you like this.”