Julkalender

I opened my eyes, rather painful and put my hand over my head. It hurt, and was swollen were he had hit me. I sat up and looked around. I was in my bed and in a chair beside the bad sat my mother. I smiled and stood up from the bed, careful not to disturb her. As I stood in front of the mirror I gasped. The half of my face were the bottle had hit me was red and swollen and there was a deep cut over my eye. I sighed and took out my make-up bag to try and cover the most of it.

When I was happy of the result I stood up and decided to make breakfast for me and my mom.

My father layed on the sofa sleeping heavily. There layed lots of beer bottles at his feet, and as I bent down to pick them up I noticed that one of them had bloodstains. From me. I hoped so. My mothers face had been bruised and some of the wounds seemed fresher. It hurt me too be so close to him, so I hurried back to the kitchen with the bottles.

I took out a plastic bag and threw them into it. Then I raided the kitchen for the rest of the beer, vodka and whisky. I knew were all his little hideouts were, cause I had watched him through all these years, too afraid to do anything about it. Now I emptied them all and took the full bag out in the garden. I dragged it on the ground since it was too heavy to carry and hoped the sound wouldn't wake him up. I walked over to the trash can and threw the bottles away. With a smile on my lips I took a stone and struck the plastic bag hard, and I felt the glass crush under it. I hit the bottles several times and enjoyed the smell that rose from the trash can. In all the excitement I didn't feel as I missed with the stone and my hand got pierced by a piece of glass. I noticed it as I walked back inside and cursed inside my head. I quickly put a band aid over it and started making breakfast.

 

Later that day I got a message from Bert. It was short and he said he missed me and hoped I was doing okay. He had said that he would be very busy these days with a music video they were doing, and I didn't want to worry him so I told him I was doing fine, and missed him a lot.

Then I decided that I wanted to listen to music. I put in the CD out of habit and turned the volume up high. Sometimes I felt normal and I could pretend that I heard the music. Some of the song I already knew and I could pretend I heard them, when I was only playing them over and over in my head. I sighed and turned the volume up again. Took out my papers with the things that I missed and added something.

“I miss Bert,”

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

“I'm coming home tomorrow,” he told me.

 

Cover up with make up in the mirror

Tell yourself it's never gonna happen again
You cry alone and then he swears he loves you

 

Do you feel like a man, when you push her around?
Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?

 

I stood up. What was that? I looked at the record player. Had I heard the music?