I race to my room with only one thought in my mind, I spead past my mum who looked like she was reading a book on the torn up lounge that’s rather short when resting on the broken floor boards. I slam open my door as I grab the darkest shade of foundation powder I could find, I cake it onto my face to cover every bruise and scratch on my face.
I place every brush and container down exactly where it was, I hear my mum run to my door as she stops herself on the door frame. With a slight stutter of hesitation in her voice she asks how my time at my dad’s was, I said in the most persuasive voice I could put on as I replied with the same answer almost every Sunday afternoon “it was okay.” Mum would always look the same when I saw her after being with my dad, she would have an overly put on smile with her eyes as red as blood almost as if she had been crying for hours.
The weeks past faster than they had ever had before, but sadly every week was the same go to school and be greeted by a few bunches in the arm come home to an empty house. Once I fall asleep every night I hear my mum walk into my room after coming back from the hospital at 12 every night just to see my sleeping face. Every second weekend I would go to my Dads house with my step mum, every time I would do something only slightly wrong, the both of them would load their hands up with rings and decide to do what they would call, persuasive punishments. However they would continually tell me that I would never learn, therefore they would be forced to punish me further.
One afternoon everything changed. I opened the door after a 30 minute walk home only to find that my mum was there. With tears trickling down her face and scratches covering her face. I sat down next to her, without hesitation she hopped up and through a small bag of chocolates with a small Christmas letter on it.
I opened it up only to find the few words â€˜good valentine’s day, thanks for the lone.’ I looked to the other side of the card to see a picture of my dad and his new wife in front of a Tesla and a large mansion overlooking Hollywood. I looked back up only to see that Mum was gone and tears had formed behind my eyes knowing that my Dad had hurt my Mum, of what I hoped would be the last time. My hands shook never had I been so certain yet nerves for the consequences in my life.
Today is the one year anniversary of my Dad and Stepmom’s jail sentence. One year down 14 left.