Kirsi rustled in her bed, dread overcoming her senses. Grogginess washed over her, which left her wondering if the beginning of another hellish day had come. Her eyes drifted towards the window, which was covered in icicles. The breeze of the winter danced into her bedroom, satisfying her crave for the cool, since she was a Glaze. Darkness swirled and enveloped the sky, signaling it was still nighttime. She sighed in relief, unloosing her muscles, and ridding her of the despair that had settled into her body. Kirsi felt the dryness of her mouth; her tongue felt like sandpaper and the nasty bile and uncleanliness of her mouth tasted foul. She needed water. Now. Which she was deprived of almost everyday. That’s what happened when you were a Glaze child born unto Blaze parents, with a Blaze sibling. Kirsi was abused everyday. Her parents deprived her of the daily necessities of everyday life from her and her sister. She was also forced to do unwanted tasks and take charge of the house, except the fact of “taking charge” and making the decisions; that were made by her parents. She ambled down the stairs. She made her way to the kitchen, and opened the cabinet, to grab a plastic cup. Kirsi went to the refrigerator and started filling up her cup, as the quiet noise of the water hitting the cup filled the silent air. As the cup filled halfway, a shadow towered over Kirsi, a hand whipped the cup from her hands, throwing it across the room. The cup landed with a SMACK, splashing the water in the cup on the tile. Kirsi’s body froze, nausea swirling in her stomach. Her mind screamed RUN, but her legs didn’t follow her brain's command and stayed paralyzed like a stone statue. “What do you think you're doing up this late?” Her mother’s calm, chilling voice said. She could feel her mother’s viscous eyes glowering down on her. Kirsi turned around to see her mother’s empty eyes; those eyes filled with no remorse or mercy. Her face showed enjoyment. Enjoyment of Kirsi’s fear. “Getting water,” Kirsi burst out. She froze, realizing her tone ruined her chances of being able to be free. “Kirsi, are you yelling at me?” Her voice dripped with a hidden venom, chilling Kirsi to the bone. Her head tilted, as her face showed no emotion. Sometimes Kirsi wondered if she was actually a Glaze instead of a Blaze, due to her cold nature. This time she wouldn’t crumble under her mother’s feet. “I deserve to drink and eat, just like everyone else.” I tightened my muscles and stood straighter, immense determination filling my features. “I work so hard and get nothing for it. You’re just lazy and unforgiving.” She refused to be weak and submissive this time. Her mother’s normally calm, confident tone waivered, and twisted into anger. “You little brat,” she hissed, every word sounding closer to death. Kirsi staggered back, tensing her muscles to prepare for the burst of pain she would feel in a matter of seconds. “How could you say that to your mother, Kirsi? For all I care, I could’ve left you hungry on the streets, left to rot and die-” her voice smeared. “-But I didn’t; so you can thank me all you want.” “Why would I thank you for making my life hell?” Kirsi spat. “The only reason you need me is to make my life miserable and to have me do your work as a parent.” She was getting angrier by the second, her emotions were in control now. Before Kirsi could process it, her mother’s leg smashed against her back. A sickening crack echoed across the room. She fell to the floor, all of the wind had been knocked out of her. Exploding pain formed in her spine. She gasped, trying to inhale any sort of oxygen into her body, while clasping her stomach. Another kick landed on her shin, then it seemed every part of her body was being attacked by her mother’s legs. Every time she tried to get up, another attack waited ahead. It felt like her mother was trying to break her one by one. After what seemed like an eternity of pain, which was probably thirty seconds, her mother stopped. Her features turned back to its stoic expression. “Go back to bed. You better be thankful that I’m not having you work now.” She turned her to the clock on the stove, “you start at five-thirty. No breakfast, no lunch.” Her eyes searched Kirsi, trying to find a flaw, or anything. Kirsi knew this; her mother was smart. Her mother turned away, heading up the stairs at inhuman speeds. Kirsi winced as she got up, bruises already started to form across her body. It feels like my lungs are going to burst, she wheezed. Or I’m going to cough up blood. Tears slipped down her eyes. Kirsi hadn’t cried in years, she couldn’t cry. She had always been repressive of her emotions. Maybe as protection; surely punishment would be worse if she cried. Maybe she couldn’t feel emotion. Kirsi always looked neutral, and sweated instead of shedding tears.
It was longer. . . But it was too big I was too lazy to make a decent picture to capture the chapter :D Warning - Violence, physical abuse and neglect abuse.
