Page 39 of Fighting My Demons

The glass rattles as he slams the door. I am frozen on the spot. My mother's sobs pull me out of my daze, and I realize I need to get out of here.

Turning around, I rush back to my bedroom, grab a backpack, and stuff my clothes and wallet in it. Grabbing my phone and charger, I stuff them in, too, before looking down at the gown I have on. The same hospital gown I came home in from the hospital last night after my suicide attempt. The bruises around my neck from three weeks ago have finally healed after I tried to hang myself from the ceiling fan in my bedroom, yet I can feel the noose still.

I try to ring my sister. She would help me escape. We are identical twins except for the birthmark on the inside of my thigh near the apex of my legs. Rushing out, I go to her room down the hall and open the door. I know she has cash stored in a shoebox under her bed. She would run with me. I grab her some clothes before stuffing the cash in the bottom of my bag and zipping it up.

I then change into some of her clothes, slipping her favorite jeans on and one of her hoodies, tucking my hair inside it before stuffing my feet into her sneakers. Walking over to the window, I push it open. Hopefully, anyone noticing would think I was Isobella. Half the time, our parents can’t tell us apart except for the way Isobella carries herself. She is confident and outgoing; she doesn’t live with the man that haunts her dreams and waking hours like I do.

Why did I go to that cemetery? Why did I break that headstone?

It was dare—a stupid one—one that has haunted me ever since. I was thirteen. How was I supposed to know that fooling around with it would awaken something? It was just a prank.

I jump a few feet to the ground. I know she must be be at Alicia’s place. I just have to sneak over to her house, and we could leave together. We could catch the next bus out of here. I jog along the path. The night was especially eerie tonight, the moon full as it shines down on me.

My feet slap the concrete path that goes along the drop-off of the cliff face. I pick up my pace seeing Alicia’s house coming into view. Just as I near the front of her house, my sister steps out, waving to her friend. We live right on the cliffs that run alongside the ocean. I can smell the salt in the cool breeze as it caresses my face.

Isobella rushes over to a waiting car—no doubt Michael, her boyfriend’s car—and she climbs in. The car turns onto the narrow road, and I dart out into the middle of the road, waving my hands. The car screeches to a stop, and I see my sister look out the windshield at me in shock.

“Arabella?” she asks, calling out the passenger window before opening her door.

She rushes over to me, and I try to tell her what I overheard. Her hands are clamping down on my arms.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, and I try to explain, panic settling over me as she shoves me into the backseat of her boyfriend's car.

“Okay, it’s alright. We will figure it out,” she says.

I relax, knowing I am getting out of here. But when her boyfriend pulls up out the front of our house, I sit upright.

“No, keep going. We need to go to the train station,” I snap at him, but Isobella is already getting out of the car. She says goodbye to her boyfriend before opening my door.

“Come on, Arabella.”

“But you said we could go.”

“I know. We will. I just need to grab a few things and speak with Dad,” she says.

I shake my head, but she pulls me from the car, and I struggle when she calls out to my father.

The front door burst open, and he seems shocked at the scene before him. He sweeps a hand down his aging face, his face twisting in anger.

“Why aren’t you in your room? You know not to leave the house,” he snaps at me, walking over and grabbing my arm in his vise-like grip.

He drags me toward the house while I kick and struggle against him. My father stops, his hand slapping my face and whipping my head to the side. My sister gasps behind me, and I touch my cheek before looking at him.

“You hit me,” I say, shocked.

My parents are good parents. They never hit us or raise a hand out of anger, but my father’s just hit me.

“Dad!” Isobella shrieks and rushes over.

Her boyfriend leaves and drives down the road after my father waves him off.

“I have had enough of your tantrums, enough of the trouble you keep causing with your defiance,” he bellows at me while dragging me inside.

“Get her sedatives!” he barks at my mother as she rushes over.

“Did you hit her?” my mother asks, just as shocked, and I can feel his handprint etched into my face.

“Enough. Do as I ask,” he snaps at her, and her eyes fall on me.