CHAPTER THREE
I winced as I slipped on a tee shirt, pulling on Jonathan's army green jacket to cover the bruises and cuts on my arms. I examined myself in the mirror and tucked my albino streak behind my bangs, hiding it from view. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked downstairs out the door, plugging in my iPod and slipping in headphones as I did so.
It was currently six p.m, time for the sunset.
I quietly walked to the cemetery, playing a slow song-"Chariot", by Gavin DeGraw. One of my mother's and I's favorite songs we shared. I hopped the cemetery fence with ease, not taking any familiar path but ending up at the same spot I always did. The grave had a wilted rose, its red color faded to an extreme degree, laying on the plot, the tombstone crumbling and covered in dirt. I gently wiped it away, my fingers running over the words engraved on it. Here lies she, Venus Sunset-DaVinchi, mother of one and master of wisdom. May she rest in piece and loving memory to her son Jay.
I blinked back hot tears, but I was unable to stop them as they poured from eyes and down my cheeks to plop onto the grave. I quietly sang, "Oh Chariot, your golden waves, are walking down, upon this face. Oh Chariot, I'm singing aloud, to guide me, give me your strength."
The sun disappeared behind the crest of hills, darkness falling quickly. I had to get home to Uncle.
"Where have you been?" Uncle snapped as I walked into the living room.
"You know where." I retorted. "At the cemetery." He cuffed me upside my head, making me topple into the wall as I tried to make my way into the kitchen.
"Don't you get that tone with me." Uncle said, grabbing me by my hair and yanking me into the living room. He pinned me against the wall and kneed me in my stomach, making me whimper in pain. I squirmed as he forced his hand down my pants, beginning to do the works. I struggled, trying to make him stop, but I knew it was no use. He slapped me across the stomach as he worked me, keeping at it for over fifteen minutes. I groaned with discomfort, moaning, and he finally snaked his hand out of my pants, grabbing me by my hair again and throwing me onto the couch so that my head banged against the arm rest. He smirked at me before disappearing into his room. I shakily got to my feet, my stomach and groin feeling bruised, and made my way up the stairs as fast as I could. The whole thing had lasted almost thirty minutes, and it was now almost eight. I went into my bathroom and undressed myself, examining myself in the mirror for a moment before I ran the shower and got in.
Grabbing the knife I kept on my soap try, I put it to my arm and began to slice my wrist, slowly, drawing blood that gushed from the wound. I did the same to my neck, dragging the jagged edge of the blade across my throat and leaving a deep gash. As more blood began to pour, I stumbled, suddenly light headed, right into the shower wall. I grabbed a nearby rag, putting it on my throat and applying as much pressure as I could to try and stop the bleeding, but only to remain unsuccessful as more blood seeped through the washcloth. Feeling close to fainting, I stumbled again, slipping and falling into the crimson-tinted water of the red-stained porcelain tub. Eventually, after a couple of minutes, the bleeding stopped. I laid there for a moment, breathing heavily, before getting up and turning off the shower head. Wrapping a towel around me, I stepped into my thankfully empty room and began to dress myself, slipping on a pair of boxers, sweatpants and an old tee. Climbing into bed, I realized just how late it was as my eyelids slowly began to droop.
About an hour later I laid there, my eyes growing wide as my door once again swung open and someone slowly crawled onto my bed behind me. Rios.
I shut my eyes tight, willing him to go away. He didn't. Instead, he ignored my protests and stripped me of my pants against my will, staying behind me the whole time as he undid his own pants.
A few moments later, I screamed.
He didn't stop until I was officially late for school. After he left, I laid there nude, trying to get my bearings together. Eventually, shaking, I sat up and stood, beginning to dress myself and trying not to cry. He had been rough, too rough, beating me the entire time. I stood in front of the mirror and examined myself, taking interest in the huge bruise on my cheek and my black swollen eye. Still shaking slightly, I grabbed my backpack, slung it over my shoulder and made my way outside, ignoring my uncle the entire time.
I could feel everybody's eyes on me as I walked into the school building. I didn't mean any of their gazes, pulling my pants up excessively out of habit as I walked down the hall to my locker.
I tensed as Payne approached me, his gaze flickering over me and lingering on my eye.
"What happened?" He asked. I didn't answer.
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