Drowning: the story of a teenager
folder
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,594
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
1,594
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Eyes Open
Misha had had trouble sleeping. The air was still and sticky. Her pajamas stuck to her, her hair was suffocating her, making sleep impossible. Tossing and turning, throwing blankets and then pillows to the floor, she lay sprawled on top of the mattress, feeling the sweat on her forehead slowly cool as the deafening drum of her pulse in her ears finally seemed to quiet. There were too many strange noises where there shouldn’t be, and eerie silences where there should be noise. Misha cocked her head to the side, staring at the boxes around her. The new house didn’t settle correctly at all.
“Agh! I hate this,” Misha grumbled, rolling to the floor. She landed with an “oomph!” on top of her blanket and proceeded to crawl to the door. Using the knob for support, she stood and stepped tentatively out into the hallway, heading towards the staircase. The kitchen light downstairs was on, perhaps her mother was down there again. She didn’t seem to sleep well, even after the funeral. But at lest the old bruises had finally gone away. Misha stared down at the light spilling onto the stairs and sat down, remembering a night similar to this one five years ago.
It was hot that night too, but Mishah had insisted on wearing the pink, heavy nightgown her daddy had given to her for her birthday the year before. She was getting too big for it, for most of her clothes actually .At thirteen, she was the tallest girl in her class, a fact which she hated. Misha was different from the other girls her age. They started wearing heels and fruity lip gloss and listening to music their older siblings played. Misha refused to grow up because then she would stop being her daddy’s little girl, and she would hate to lose that spot in her father’s heart.
She she was wearing the pink nightgown because her daddy had given it to her. She would wear it until she absolutely couldn’t anymore. That was just the way tings were going to be.
But her mother had been right, and so Misha found herself at the top of the stairs, knobby ankles sticking out well below the hemline of her gown, hot, sticky and uncomfortable, wanting a glass of water. But she couldn’t go into the kitchen because someone was hurting her mother. She could hear the muffled sobs and the painful dull crack against her skin as someone continued to strike her. There was a low dangerous hiss of a man’s voice that made Misha flinch. Her daddy would save her mother. Her daddy would stop that bad man.
“Daddy!” Misha yelled. And her voice echoed down into the kitchen. Her mother wailed, a sound so full of mourning it made Misha begin to whimper. What made her mother sound so sad?
“Misha? Go back to bed, angel,” said that angry voice. Misha’s eyes widened when her father stood at the bottom of the stairs. The yellow light from the kitchen enlarged his shadow till he seemed to loom above her onto the ceiling.
“Momma’s crying,” she said softly, uncertain as to what to think of this situation.
“Daddy and Momma are just having a talk. Go back to bed,” he said a little more forcefully.
“But Momma ---“
“Misha, honey, go back to sleep, her mother called through her tears. Natalia was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing her bloody noise. She hoed it wasn’t broken again, but she couldn’t seem to feel her face at the moment. All that she could see were shards of a dinner plate and the remainder of Jim’s dinner that was too cold for his liking.
“Momma, I want you to help me to bed,” Misha whimpered.”
“Honey, Momma can’t ---“
“You shut up!” Jim yelled. He climbed up several stairs which only made Misha shake. “Go back to bed by yourself. You’re not a stupid little girl anymore.”
“Daddy, I ---“
“Go to bed!” Jim lunged up the remaining stairs and shoved Misha roughly back to her room. Misha hit the ground hard and stared terrified at the man who stood in the doorway. “Gt the fuck back into bed. Don’t want to see you out of your room ‘til morning. Do you understand me?”
Misha must have nodded, but she didn’t remember doing it. The man grunted and slammed the door violently behind him. She could hear his heavy footsteps down the stairs. Then her mother’s voice raised in desperation. A resounding thud was heard and everything went quiet. Misha cried quietly, finally wiping her face with the sleeve of her gown. A dull red streak remained on the cloth as she pulled it away, but it wasn’t er blood. Scared at what she saw, and not quite believing it, Misha tossed the nightgown into the corner of her room. She curled up at the head of her bed and fell into troubled sleep.
“Agh! I hate this,” Misha grumbled, rolling to the floor. She landed with an “oomph!” on top of her blanket and proceeded to crawl to the door. Using the knob for support, she stood and stepped tentatively out into the hallway, heading towards the staircase. The kitchen light downstairs was on, perhaps her mother was down there again. She didn’t seem to sleep well, even after the funeral. But at lest the old bruises had finally gone away. Misha stared down at the light spilling onto the stairs and sat down, remembering a night similar to this one five years ago.
It was hot that night too, but Mishah had insisted on wearing the pink, heavy nightgown her daddy had given to her for her birthday the year before. She was getting too big for it, for most of her clothes actually .At thirteen, she was the tallest girl in her class, a fact which she hated. Misha was different from the other girls her age. They started wearing heels and fruity lip gloss and listening to music their older siblings played. Misha refused to grow up because then she would stop being her daddy’s little girl, and she would hate to lose that spot in her father’s heart.
She she was wearing the pink nightgown because her daddy had given it to her. She would wear it until she absolutely couldn’t anymore. That was just the way tings were going to be.
But her mother had been right, and so Misha found herself at the top of the stairs, knobby ankles sticking out well below the hemline of her gown, hot, sticky and uncomfortable, wanting a glass of water. But she couldn’t go into the kitchen because someone was hurting her mother. She could hear the muffled sobs and the painful dull crack against her skin as someone continued to strike her. There was a low dangerous hiss of a man’s voice that made Misha flinch. Her daddy would save her mother. Her daddy would stop that bad man.
“Daddy!” Misha yelled. And her voice echoed down into the kitchen. Her mother wailed, a sound so full of mourning it made Misha begin to whimper. What made her mother sound so sad?
“Misha? Go back to bed, angel,” said that angry voice. Misha’s eyes widened when her father stood at the bottom of the stairs. The yellow light from the kitchen enlarged his shadow till he seemed to loom above her onto the ceiling.
“Momma’s crying,” she said softly, uncertain as to what to think of this situation.
“Daddy and Momma are just having a talk. Go back to bed,” he said a little more forcefully.
“But Momma ---“
“Misha, honey, go back to sleep, her mother called through her tears. Natalia was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing her bloody noise. She hoed it wasn’t broken again, but she couldn’t seem to feel her face at the moment. All that she could see were shards of a dinner plate and the remainder of Jim’s dinner that was too cold for his liking.
“Momma, I want you to help me to bed,” Misha whimpered.”
“Honey, Momma can’t ---“
“You shut up!” Jim yelled. He climbed up several stairs which only made Misha shake. “Go back to bed by yourself. You’re not a stupid little girl anymore.”
“Daddy, I ---“
“Go to bed!” Jim lunged up the remaining stairs and shoved Misha roughly back to her room. Misha hit the ground hard and stared terrified at the man who stood in the doorway. “Gt the fuck back into bed. Don’t want to see you out of your room ‘til morning. Do you understand me?”
Misha must have nodded, but she didn’t remember doing it. The man grunted and slammed the door violently behind him. She could hear his heavy footsteps down the stairs. Then her mother’s voice raised in desperation. A resounding thud was heard and everything went quiet. Misha cried quietly, finally wiping her face with the sleeve of her gown. A dull red streak remained on the cloth as she pulled it away, but it wasn’t er blood. Scared at what she saw, and not quite believing it, Misha tossed the nightgown into the corner of her room. She curled up at the head of her bed and fell into troubled sleep.