The Legions Broken Flame

Ophelia Smack! A painful sting spreads through my cheek as I hit the floor from the force of the blow. "I told you not to leave the house!" Dad screams at me, after catching me sneaking back in, as I'm slumped on the floor. I know if I move the next hit will come harder than the last, and it was pretty hard. Damn, right in the face too. Usually I can cover the bruises, but it's harder to do on the face. If I can get ice on it before it swells too much I should be fine. I drown out the rest of dad's screaming as he leaves my room, slamming the door as he goes. As soon as I hear his truck pulling away I run downstairs to the fridge to grab my ice pack in the back of the freezer. I suck in a sharp breath when the cold first makes contact with the sensitive skin of my face. I should call Ez, but it's already late and I don't want to burden him with this, again.I know he doesn't mind and would prefer I call him, but he has his own life to live too. He can't run to my rescue all the time. When the ice pack starts to melt, and my face doesn't sting so much, I return it to the freezer. Grabbing a banana, I make my way back upstairs to my room and lock the door. It won't help keep dad out, but it gives me piece of mind. Slightly. I finish ordering my cap and gown for graduation in a few weeks while I polish off the banana. Ez would be pissed if he knew this was the first time I've eaten today, but it's how it has to be some times. Logging out of my account, so dad can't get in, I stand from my desk and stretch out my aching muscles. Everything hurts, but everything always hurts these days. I plop onto the edge of my bed and rummage around in my nightstand for the motrin I know is there. Once I find the bottle I take out two and down them with the water bottle that was already sitting there from yesterday. I can feel sleep already taking over, so I quickly change into my pajama shorts and an oversized shirt before climbing back in bed. my eyes close and I feel myself drifting off before I can pull the blankets up all the way. ~ I open my eyes and I'm walking along a beach, the water lapping at my feet as the little waves roll in every now and then. I take in my surroundings while continuing down the shore that seems endless. It's a beautiful place, but I know I've never been here before. The smell of the salt waterand the feel of the wind blowing around me almost seem real. I wouldn't have thought it was a dream if the pain throughout my body wasn't gone completely. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath, savoring the moment before I inevitably have to wake up. Someone yelling in the distance makes me jump, and when I turn toward the voice I see a boy running toward me from down the shore. He's too far to make put his face, but close enough to see his curly mop of black hair. The boy is definitely taller than me, at least a whole foot taller. I feel some kind of pull toward him like some part of me knows him. Before he can get close enough I can feel myself waking up and I try my best to stay here. I just need a little longer. The water and sand start to slowly disappear along the horizon in every direction and I'm flooded with sadness. What is happening? "Wait!" The boy yells, running even faster. "Please don't go yet!" My eyes start to tear up from my own feeling and the amount of emotion I can hear in his voice, but why? Who is he? Before I know it I'm sobbing at our departure before we've even properly met, and it's so confusing. "I'm sorry!" I call out to him before the sand beneath me collapses and I'm falling into an abyss of nothing. ~ The feeling of my body being ripped from the bed is what wakes me me up completely. I have no time to register what's happening until I slam into the wall and collapse onto the floor. "Why the f**k is my kitchen a mess?" Dad's voice echoes off the walls, making it seem even louder. His boot connecting with my stomach slams me off the wall again when I try to get up. "All you have to do is make sure this f*****g house is clean and you can't even do that right!" We both know he made that mess when he came home shitface drunk in the middle of the night. But that doesn't matter. Anything can be used as a reason to punish me when it comes to dad, even if it isn't my fault. To him, everything is my fault. When I don't respond or move he turns to leave muttering, "f*****g useless, just like your mother." I hear that one a lot. it doesn't really phase me as much as it used to. The door slams so hard when he leaves that the pictures on the wall rattle. I wait until I hear the front door slam to sit myself up, groaning the entire time. looking at the clock on my nightstand I realize it's five in the morning and sigh. "Happy f*****g birthday to me."