Looking For True Family: Chapter 2

"I love you too Prim," I said before blacking out.

The next morning I woke up with a throbbing headache. Prim's head was still on my stomach and she was fast asleep.

I got up slowly and my sister stirred slightly, turning her head away from me.

I sighed as yesterdays events ran through my mind. My head hurt. In fact, it practically throbbed.

My hand traced my little sister’s face moving her thick brown hair out of her eyes.

“Sorry Prim,” I whispered.

She looked just like my mother. Maybe thats why I was apologizing. The same thick dark hair. Those brown eyes and small size.

I took after my father. After his death I couldn’t look at myself anymore because I saw my dad rather than my reflection staring back at me.

Once again my sister stirred as if she was going to wake up. I decided to wake her up.

“C’mon Prim, wake up,” I said quietly.

“No,” she muttered and turned her head.

Naturally the girl was a heavy sleeper.

“Primrose please get up,” I said firmly.

She sighed and her eyes opened slightly following my fingers.

A bit annoyed she got up, slowly rubbing her big brown eyes.

“Vannah are you alright… after yesterday?” she asked shyly.

“Of course I am, Prim. When have you ever known Vincent to keep me down. Huh?” I asked playfully.

She smiled uncertainly, “Yea you’re right. I shouldn’t have asked.”

I looked at her, closely studying her face. She hadn’t believed me.

I smiled at her, “C’mon go get ready for school. I’ll even do your makeup and hair this morning. All right?”

She got up slowly and wobbled as she stood, “Okay, Vannah, I’ll be back,”

I saw my little sister skip out of my bedroom. Remembering the party my parents had most likely attended last night I called her back.

“Yea?” she asked turning to face me.

“You can use my bathroom,” I told her.

Her brow furrowed, I had kept the after effects of alcohol hidden from Prim. Especially the excessive vomit part.

“Okay whatever you say,” she said.

She continued skipping down the hall to her bedroom. I got off my floor myself. As I waited for her I went to my closet to pick out todays outfit. Most of my clothes I bought with the money I earned from my after school job at the library.

I picked out the sleeveless denim jacket and orange camisole shirt. I grabbed my black jeans and laid the completed outfit on my bed.

Prim wasn’t back yet, and I began to worry. Usually it didn’t take her so long to pick out her outfits. I organized her clothes for the week myself.

“Prim,” I called as I made my way down to her room.

The corridor was unclean. A beer bottle lay off to the side and the strangling smell of alcohol and vomit added to the sense of dirtiness.

No response, I picked up my pace and saw Prim conversing with my mother.

I stood there stunned and worried for her. My mother a[[eared sober, but I knew better than anyone how deceiving looks can actually be.

The woman outstretched her hand toward my sister and I freaked out immediately running in between the two.

Prim seemed grateful for my semi-rescue attempt and gripped my leg tightly.

My mother scowled and slapped me hard across my face. Her acrylic nails cutting my cheek.

Prim shrieked and gripped my leg tighter with her tiny little hands.

I brought my hand up to the cut and tried to feel for the damage. I pulled my hand away and looked at it, streaks of blood painted my skin.

Apparently the witch wasn’t through with me yet. Her hand grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me by my throat.

Prim cried and my mother directed her anger towards her for a second.

“Shut up! Did I touch you?!” she demanded.

Frantically my little sister shook her head and apologized.

“And you, who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” my mother demanded of me.

I grinned, “You of course,”

She threw me down on the floor. I didn’t like the fact that it was my blood staining the floor of Prim’s bedroom.

I pushed my body up from the floor with my hands and stood weakly, but at least I was standing. One point for Savannah, zero points for my mother.

“You have some nerve, I brought you into this world and I can take you out,” she screamed.

“Sure,” I muttered under my breath in defiance, “my mother birthed me. Not this drunken witch who stands before me,”

She growled and punched me with her free hand. I staggered and pushed Prim back slightly.

“V-vannah. C’mon are you alright Vannah?” she asked shaking my shoulder slightly.

My left eye hurt, it practically throbbed. I took my left hand and covered it shielding it from any further damage.

The phone rang, first saved by the witch then saved by the bland incessant ringtone.

“You’re lucky Savannah, thats probably a client. Get ready for school and fix your face. I barely even touched you,” she said and stormed out of Prim’s room.

That was her form of justification for her malice actions. Though it wasn’t in any way acceptable I was beaten up enough and was hoping that i could attend school today.

There was a tug on my shirt and I looked down to see prim standing there her eyes puffy and red. Lately I’ve realized how much it hurts me to see her cry. Seeing her like that made me afraid to uncover my eye in her room, so i played off the situation like it was normal. It was too bad that she was growing up with such a violent scenario being normal.

I took my free hand and ruffled her hair, “C’mon we have to get ready,”

Her brown eyes welled up with tears and she threw her arms around my waist.

“Vannah, are you all right? Your eye? Can you see?” she asked through her tears.

I got down on my knee and she hugged me tightly and continued crying, “Don’t cry sweetie I’m fine. It’s probably not even a scratch. Now go get dressed and we can have your favorite cereal (some sugary carb filled substance)”

That seemed to slow down the flow of tears, “And the make up dirt?” she asked.

I laughed, “And the makeup.”

She let go of the hold thats he had around my neck and wiped her tears, “Okay Vannah,”

I got up off the floor and we walked down the hallway side by side into my bedroom. She took her clothes and walked into my bathroom, closing the door behind her like I always do.

I waited to hear the sound of running water before slowly moving my hand from my eyes afraid of what i may see.

As my now distorted reflection stared back at me I could see why Prim was so afraid of me.

My left eye was bruised badly and inherited a purplish color that signified bruising. There was some blood surrounding the immediate injury and the throbbing sensation increased.

“How am I going to hide this one?” I thought to myself.

I walked over to my vanity in the corner of my room, lined with MAC, Sephora and other name brand products.

On the top there was a concealer that was close to my own skin pigment. As a test I picked it up and applied just a bit to the bottom of my eye, holding back the tears.

It concealed the bruising well enough that people won't see them.

Prim came out of the bathroom smiling and turning as she showed off today’s outfit. A pink skirt and a blue camisole shirt.

“How do I look, Vannah?” she asked admiring herself.

“Great, Prim,” I smiled.

She giggled, but thats because she hadn’t seen how bad my eyes had swollen up. My left hand resumed position over my eye and I pushed past her.

“Vannah?” she said confused.

I hadn’t stopped like I usually would have instead I walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind me once I was alone I called out to her through the door, “Prim, I’m all right just running a bit late. let me finish my shower first, okay?”

I kept my body pushed against the door awaiting her response.

It came through muffled, but thankfully understandable, “Kay Vannah whatever you say,”

I sighed with relief at the fact that today wasn’t one of her “Why?” days when she would question me until I couldn’t stand the word anymore. Thank God for small mercies I suppose.

regaining my sense of setting I undressed and got in the shower. I turned the silver knob to my left that controlled the hot water and immediately turned the one on my right for the cold water. After tampering with them for a bit I reached a rather relaxing temperature that I was satisfied.

Due to time I didn’t dwell in the shower for long, one because Prim was in my bedroom alone, and two there had to be enough time remaining to do both our makeup and hair ohhh slut.

I spit my last bit of toothpaste out my mouth and onto the shower floor where it was whisked away by the water into the drain.

After that I glanced at the wall clock and gave myself a little while longer before turning off both faucets and grabbing my yellow towel off the hook.

I wrapped it around my body and took the smaller yellow towel to wrap around my hair. It was slightly damp which led me to believe Jasmine had used it in place of her own.

No matter though, it wasn’t the end of the world besides we shared blood which was more severe than a towel in my opinion. I walked over to my bathroom mirror and looked closer once again examining my wound.

It made me nauseous the sight of the wound. The swelling had gone down thankfully, but that didn't make the situation too much better.

The disgusting "abomination" was still on my eye. No matter nothing makeup can't fix. Right?

With that though in my mind I proceeded with my morning routine. I lotioned my body and sprayed myself with perfume.

Once again I let my eyes wander to the clock. It read 6:45 leaving me 45 minute gap until my bus came. Unless I decided to walk to school, then I had the leisure of leaving at 7:40.

I quickly dressed myself. From my black bra to my black combat boots.

I put my hand on the doorknob and pushed open my door. Prim sat on my bed, her legs leisurely dangling in the side as she traced the complex pattern of my comforter.

For some unknown reason she had always been obsessed with it telling me how wonderful it was. It seemed to relax her.

I walked over behind her, but not even the sound of my footsteps could unnerve her so I sat behind her and began doing her hair.

"Vannah," she said nearly mesmerised by her task at hand.

"Mhm," I responded as I weaves the strand of her hair together to form a braid.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Braiding your hair," I replied.

She didn't answer which constituted to "Alright I'm going back to my quilt,”

I finished her hair and asked her to turn around and face me. She did as she was told. I smiled and applied a clear lip gloss to her lips and she smiled at me.

I always thought that Prim was the prettiest out of the two of us. Everything about her was beautiful. Her big brown and hopeful eyes, along with her long curly hair. Her optimistic personality. They were just few among my sister’s many desirable traits.

Looking at her made me wonder, What is it that I have that you could possibly admire?

“Your turn. Right Vannah?” she asked absolutely giddy about the whole make up thing. I wondered how she would act when she was my age and makeup defined your character more than anything else about you. The thought made me shutter and I put it aside hoping that my portrayal of the subject wasn't definite.

I smiled at her, “Yea my turn. Why don’t you head downstairs and start breakfast I’ll be down in a minute,”

“Kay,” she said hopping off my bed and making her way down stairs picking up her purple backpack from her room on her way down.

I sighed and slouched abandoning my perfect posture and smile that I held up so that Prim wouldn’t worry. Besides my sister what else did I really have to smile about?

I’m far from normal, I’ve concluded. Normal kids aren’t beaten senseless by drunken parents, or have to hide their sister under their bed every time their step-dad comes home.

The truth was hard to come to at first. I thought that maybe drinking for Vincent was a one time thing, it wasn’t and soon it became the norm for my mother as well. I thought about the ring sitting buried deep in a drawer somewhere. It was Vincents vow to protect us. It was just as fake as the gold jewelry he swears he brings my mother.

Lately though I've accepted the truth rather nicely. I’ve accepted it like one does a bad grade on a test, a loss in a game. By pushing it away and shielding my feelings it has no affect on me that is too severe. The truth was simple really, I’m just a statistic. I’m apart of the 30 to 60 percent of American kids that suffer from maltreatment or domestic violence in their homes. Wouldn’t that sound wonderful in an introduction,Hello I’m Savannah and I’m a statistic.

I sighed and abandoned my thoughts. I had other things to do right now. Quickly, but carefully I put on my makeup.

Then I grabbed my bright coral backpack off my floor and slung it over my shoulder making my way down stairs.

I saw our hallway covered in trash and it smelled like beer. I had a feeling that I would be blamed for the mess and be forced to clean it as well. That wouldn’t be surprising.

I sighed as i was forced to breathe in the fumes. I hate the smell of beer. It was strong and unpleasant, it aggravated my senses.

I walked into our kitchen, that as usual looked like a mess. The room was a lost cause, the only way of saving it would be by redoing it, but living on the salaries my parents own that isn’t likely.

I found Prim at the table eating her favorite cereal, I grabbed a breakfast bar from the pantry and leaned on the grungy island that sufficed as a table for us.

It was a chocolate chip quaker bar. I sneaked another one and stuck it in my pocket. After the incident with my mother it didn’t look like I would be getting any lunch money for school today.

I grabbed another and put in Prim’s bag, “Just tell Ms.White you forgot lunch,” I said zipping it up.

“Okay,” she said avoiding my gaze.

She must have become aware how much I hated the fact that she had to live the same hell that I did. I smiled, “Look up, Prim,”

She looked at me and smiled half-heartedly I returned the favor and kissed her forehead, “Lets go before we’re late,”

She nodded and got up following me into the hallway. I grabbed my keys off the little table off to the right. Just my luck my mother felt the need to “wave us off”.

She came down in her hooker heels(that she didn’t even look right in), skimpy little black dress, and big gold jewelry.

“Work?” I asked not really caring.

“No, church,” she replied sarcastically.

I turned my head eying the door and rolling my eyes, she was just as pissy as always it seemed. I unlocked the door and pulled it open, the light breeze of a Spring Day greeted Prim and I. It was relaxing.

I turned to look at mother, She would probably be at those street corners again. I thought. Once again I felt that pang of sympathy for my mother. Just as fast as it came it disappeared leaving barely a trace. The feeling was normal.

I sighed and turned my hair falling behind my back rather nicely in my opinion. “C’mon Prim, she doesn’t want to be late,” I said with a touch of sarcasm in my voice that I only recognized.

“Got that right, now get out,” my mother said.

“Charming,” I muttered under my breath as I led my younger sister outside into the sunlight.

We went to public school and had a bus stop up at the nearest cross section. It wasn’t a far walk thankfully. Conscious of time I glanced at my watch on my wrist.

7:20

We running a bit more behind than I would’ve liked. Prim begged for us to take the scenic route to our bus stop. She would be able to see all the flowers and trees budding with the season.

“Sorry,” I said, “but we’re running late. No time,” I admitted.

I took full responsibility for it, I should’ve let my mother hit me rather than prolonging it with an argument.

Within 5 minutes we arrived at the stop sign that served as a landmark for our bus stop. We arrived in time with the elementary school bus that would take Prim. She hugged me as it came into view and got on the bus leaving me casually leaning on the sign taking in the warm spring air.

It served as an escape, a taste of what normal kids experienced. I made sure to enjoy it, because I was perfectly aware that it wouldnt last long. It wasn’t my luxury to have or to enjoy.

I exhaled into the air. It would be carried and no one would hear it. I stopped having a problem with that fact.

The sound of wheels reached my ears and I turned my head to see the big yellow school bus turning the corner. Slowly is halted in front of me and the doors opened revealing a stock old man sitting behind the wheel.

I got on the bus and we didn’t exchange a word. It was like this every morning though, so why should I care? There was an empty seat behind the driver that I sat in. The motor started and the vehicle lurched forward throwing me forward along with it.

My friends wouldn’t be on today. Go figure, just when I needed her she wasn’t there. The irony. My good friend Tara rode the same bus as me. Knowing her she was over at Colton’s house today.

My headphones beckoned me from my backpack as they stuck out of my front pocket. I reached for them and put them in my ears pressing the play button, and listening to a rock playlist.

I leaned my head on the window watching the scenery race past me. Colors, homes they all blurred into one continuous, unfocused image. I sighed and took it in for now. Time flew past. before I knew it we were pulling in to my school.

The white marbled building that had its school name displayed in large blue and white letters on the roof. Wilson Mount High School. I exhaled, it was more of a happy exhale through rather than a sad or exasperated one.

School to me was an escape. It was the only place my parents couldn’t touch me. They were drunks, but they weren’t stupid. When I was here I was practically invisible to them and their methods of torment. With all those witnesses around only an idiot would beat their children in such an environment.

My bus, bus 786 filed into line with those in front of it. The large bright yellow vehicles slowed as they moved in a single field line waiting to let us off relieving them of their duties. We were behind 746 the bus that my friend Morgan was on.

I moved away from the window and to the aisle looking through the windshield into the back window of her bus for any sight of her. I saw her standing to leave. Her long black hair that reached past her shoulders lay nicely. Her bus emptied and the driver wasted no time pulling out of the lot.

The bus door opened signaling all of us to get off. I was off first and as always said “Good morning” to the woman who recorded whether or not each bu arrived. She smiled and returned the gesture.

I was pushed into the crowd of high schoolers. Each one comfortably socializing with their own click. The football players that had 5:00 am practice came out in a wave from the guys locker room.

I had my own clique. I wasn’t the type who retreated to the bathroom or library for lunch. I just didn’t know where they were at the moment. I followed the crowd into the building where the masses started to dissolve. I spotted Morgan and made my way over to her.

I tapped her lightly on the shoulder and she turned to face me, her eyes magnified slightly by her glasses.

“Morning, friend,” I smiled.

“Hey,” she said waving.

The first bell rang and I stole a glance at my watch the busses were later than usual today. I would have to make my way to my locker now to make it to homeroom in time.

“I gotta go, see you at lunch,” I said walking past her.

“See you.” she said and went about her business.

My locker was in the east wing. I turned the corridor lined with people. There was a couple practically swallowing each other and a scrawny guy getting bullied by two football players. It was better for me not to get involved so I continued on my way. I learned from a beating that its in my best interest to lay low.

My locker came into view and I walked over to it putting my combination into the lock 17-48-12 the locker opened and the grey locker filled with my favorite bands greeted me.

My books (previously organized in class order) greeted me. I took out my English books. I was in English Honors and my homeroom teacher taught that course. She had the ability of making the most boring pieces of Literature something to laugh about.

I closed my locker and turned the combination lock to lock it. Thankfully homeroom wasn’t far from my locker. It was a short walk in the same direction. I ended up arriving earlier than planned. I leaned on the wall and opened my book catching up.

I had a tendency to lose myself in a book and I mean lose myself. That probably was why I hadn’t seen the tall boy who stood to the side of me until he moved in front of me and began blocking my light. I assumed it was a teacher ready to scold me for reading in the halls, instead it was a boy whom I don’t recall ever seeing before.