Carita09

This is Yasmine's journey through abuse, pain, and independence. Read to find out how she saves her sister and herself from the monster's iron grip.   

~I slammed my fist against the closet door leaving smears of my blood. It was not the first time I was locked in the closet. But it was the first time I wanted to get out. I clenched my fists against the mahogany door but it was useless. I could not help her. I pounded the door one fist after the other. 

Not giving up.

I hit my head on the door and tried to drown out the screams of my baby sister. You would think that her being the actual daughter she would not get hurt. But she is feeling the same pain as I do. I bit my lip and pulled at my chestnut brown hair from their roots until there was a deafening silence. 

I sat there at the door, where light creaked in, rocking back and forth. My knees were against my chest like a shield but it was more than that. It was an act of stupid, feeble-minded me who had no sense of control or even a slight grasp of the situation in front of me.~

The Roaring Silence

School is starting today and I hate it so much. I look to my left where my denim blue backpack lays. I grab my backpack and swing it across my back. I then shuffle along the corridor to say bye to Em before I go to school ." Em "I whisper as I stick my head into our room. I look around until I see her.


She is sprawled across our bedrooms' wooden floor. Panic runs through me. I move silently next to her. I touch her head that is soaked with blood. I move her hair from her face and tuck it under her ears. I whisper sweet nothings in her ears as she cried. "Em, it's gonna be alright trust me''. I almost choke on my words.


The lie is so big. Big as an unmovable boulder. It isn't gonna be alright. It will never be alright. I grab her pale hand. "Em, 1 more year and I'm out of school. We can run away together. So stay strong for one more year. Just one more year. I promise''. She nods her head as tears come down her face smudging her mascara.


I kiss her cheek and run to the blue towel in the bathroom. The blue towel felt soft in my calloused hands. I go across the bedroom floor where I see red. I pick up Em almost falling because my weak self can't even protect or carry her. I don't know if it is from the lack of food or lack of sleep. But I mean who can sleep with a 40-year-old man on top of them?  I sigh and turn on the faucet. I look at my reflection. On the metal of the faucet, I see someone who used to smile and talk. But now that person is dead.


Em moans again. I hold her while I let the water run for a while. Then I put her in. I hold her there while she showers 20 minutes then I hear her calling " I'm done" Her voice is weak laced with pain tearing at my heart. I grab some alcohol hidden behind the lumpy mattress. I open the bottle and clean the towel using it to clean her face. 


She screams so loud that her voice pierces and stabs at my heart breaking my heart into another piece. Thankfully,  Blaine is out for some gambling so I do not have to worry about him finding us in such a vulnerable position. Em soon passes out from the pain. I do my best to wrap the gash. But I am not a doctor. I only took the few first aid classes available in school. I sigh and blow at my bangs. I have to go to school soon, I'm already late and they can't call Blaine. I rush and grab a small needle from the sewing kit in the bathroom cabinet.


After a frustrating minute of getting the black thread through the damn hole, I swallow my bile and prod Em's skin. The black thread goes in and out. I repeat the motion until her skin is not open anymore.


I grab a piece of paper and write her a note for her to read when she wakes up.


Em, lock your door. Stay home today and take the 2 pills.


I walk into his room. My footsteps echoed through the silent house. I walk into the room warily my eyes, full of suspicion, gaze around. I put my hand into his closet. It smells like a dead skunk in there. My eyes turn watery but I withstand scrunching my eyes and nose to look into his closet.


I grab a hoodie and a pair of sweats. They are huge on me. But I only have one set of clothes and now they are filled with blood. Em's blood. Tears threaten to escape my eyes every time I see her face etched with pain inside my head. I can't break down not now when she needs me the most.


That's what I tell myself every day, every hour, every minute, and second of my nonexistent life.


Broken