Lyrics to the Torture

The young girl shrunk back against the wall down a small corridor that was only filled with lockers. No one noticed her, but she noticed him amongst the crowd. His dark shaggy hair, his bright green eyes, the small amount of almost unnoticeable freckles that cross his nose, the stubble that covered his chin, his thin pink lips, his lip piercing, his broad chest, his athletic body, his tattoo on his wrist, his pale skin, his ripped jeans, black leather jacket and grey band tee. Everything about his appearance she soaked in, she paid attention to the smallest details. She pays attention to the way his fringe falls into his face, the way he flicks it out of his face with a tip of his head, the way he smirks when a girl asks him out, the way he laughs when he’s with his friends, the way his smile grows when he rejects every girl that comes close to him, the way he walks, the way he drags his feet, everything.

A girl flashes him a flirtatious smile as he walks by, winking towards him but he pays no attention to her. Swallowing, Lyric shrunk back around the corner out of sight of everyone. Lyric stood alone in the corridor, her back against the walls, her head down, staring down at stained white tiles.

The shrill of the bell startled Lyric before she straightened up, tugging her old, black hooded jumper down to cover her stained, ripped jeans. Trudging along, Lyric opened her locker, pulling out her books before shutting it again and walking towards her Art class. With her head down, Lyric walked easily into the classroom, sitting at the back in her regular seat, hidden behind the sea of people in the classroom.

The teacher began speaking almost automatically, her voice setting the class a brief instruction on what the class would hold before sitting back down at her desk to sketch something onto a fine piece of white paper with a piece of charcoal.

Without thinking, Lyric pulled her Art Journal towards her, flipping it open to a blank page before she reached forwards for a 2B pencil and began to sketch thoughtlessly onto the paper, her mind trailing off towards the boy she knew she would never get. Skylar.

The class ended fast, pulling Lyric out of her trance. Lyric looked down at her piece of paper, realising that she had stopped drawing on the paper about halfway through the class, yet the sketch was complete. It was a broad shouldered man towering over a small girl, the girl clutching a bear to her chest, darkness surrounding both of them.

The young blonde, nine year old girl had tears streaming down her face, bruises, scars and cuts covering every inch of her visible skin. Her eyes were pleading, whereas the man’s were infuriated and intoxicated, his fists tightly clasped by his sides.

Tearing her eyes away from her sketch, she closed her book and sharply left the already empty classroom. Her eyes trailed around the empty halls, she knew she was late for her next class.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she walked swiftly towards her Maths class, her head hung when she knocked lightly onto the wooden door with a wired, glass window. The teacher finished the equation before looking over towards the door, scowling when she spots Lyric.

All of the students looked towards the door in confusion. They had no clue who the brunette standing by the doorway was. They acted as if they hadn’t seen her in the halls before and that didn’t surprise her, she wanted it that way.

The teacher, Miss Briggs swiftly moved over to the door, yanking it open furiously. Lyric was never late and Miss Briggs was incredibly happy that she was late for the first time in her class. Miss Briggs never liked Lyric, she got bad grades, barely paid attention in class, hated to answer any question when asked and never did her homework. The only thing Miss Briggs did like about Lyric was that she remained quiet and turned up on time.

“Why are you late Miss Riley?” the Maths teacher hissed, arms crossed with a glower on her wrinkled face.

“Um, I-I—” Lyric stuttered, a blush on her cheeks, too embarrassed to even look at the teacher or the students that had their eyes glued on her.

“Out with it!” Miss Briggs growled.

“I-I have no excuse,” Lyric murmured softly.

“Then you have detention with me this afternoon.”

“I can’t,” Lyric answered with wide eyes, stepping forwards as she stared at Miss Briggs retreating figure. Lyric’s hands sweating and shaking by her side. Her mouth dry, her voice quivering.

“And why not?” Miss Briggs growled, turning to look at her.

“I-I—Never mind.”

“Good, now get to your seat.”

Lyric nodded numbly, knowing that if she were to tell Miss Briggs the reason, she would refuse to believe her and even if Miss Briggs were to believe her, it would be too big of hassle.

It’s my problem. Lyric thought, as she sat at the back in her regular seat, ignoring the hushed whispers around her and the small glances directed her way. The only glance Lyric couldn’t ignore was the one Skylar was giving her, he was staring straight at her, his eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he swung on his seat, bored.

A blush rose to Lyric’s face before she could stop it, a small smile tugging up at the corner of her mouth. Lyric noted the work on the bored quickly and effortlessly, waiting anxiously for the bell to ring and when it did, a relieved sigh left Lyric’s lips.

Everyone moved up to leave, only Skylar and Lyric staying behind with Miss Briggs. Skylar flashed a grin towards Miss Briggs, his hand reaching into his leather jacket pulling out a box of cigarette’s along with a lighter.

“No smoking, Mister Varalleno,” Miss Briggs growled. “This is detention.”

“Chill Anna, just hand out the papers and the dictionary so we can start,” Skylar shrugged, dropping the chair legs back to the ground, feet up on the table.

Pulling out a cigarette, he placed it between his lips and returned the box back into his pocket. Clicking the lighter on, he lit his cigarette before returning the lighter back to the inside pocket as well.

“Don’t call me Anna, feet off the desk,” Miss Briggs growled stomping towards him with two dictionaries in hand along with some sheets of lined paper. “No iPods and no smoking.”

Miss Briggs tugged the iPod out of his ears, stuffing it in her pocket.

“Hey, I was listening to that,” Skylar hissed, dropping his legs off of the table, the smoke leaking from his mouth, trailing upwards, towards the ceiling as he rolled the cigarette between his fingers.

“Give me the cigarette and I’ll give you your iPod,” the teacher answered, holding her hand out.

“Nah, I’m good,” he flashed Miss Briggs a half smile, placing the cigarette back into his mouth.

The teacher glared at him, slamming the dictionary and paper down onto the desk before stomping towards Lyric, and doing the same, grumbling under her breath as she trudged back to her desk.

Lyric slid her Maths book away from her before sliding the dictionary and paper closer to her. Flipping to a random page, she began to write.

After several minutes, Skylar moved up from his seat, throwing away the butt to his cigarette before returning to his seat, doing his work with a smirk.

After the hour had passed, Lyric scurried out of the classroom to her locker, not realising that Skylar was watching her curiously, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her. Shaking his head, he continued walking to his own locket, leaving Lyric to shove her books into her locker, closing it lightly.

Tugging her sleeves further down her scarred arms, she moved out of the building and began to walk to the primary school that was a few blocks away from her school. A smile pulled up onto the corner of her lips when she spotted her little sister, Aurora, sitting against the primary school fence, her bag beside her as she watched the cars zoom by.

Aurora's blonde hair was braided behind her, her blue eyes waiting anxiously for Lyric. Her small hands were balled in her lap as she chewed lightly in her bottom lip.

“Hey Rory,” Lyric welcomed watching as a grin spread across Aurora’s face when she spotted Lyric.

“Ricky!” the ten year old squealed, pulling herself up to her feet to bolt over to her big sister, wrapping her arms around Lyric’s waist almost automatically.

Lyric winced before placing a smile onto her face, ignoring the stabbing pain against her stomach from a bruise that was created the night before. Lyric stepped back from the hug, grabbing the bag off of Aurora and swinging it over her shoulder before grasping Aurora’s hand in hers.

~*~*~

Lyric and Aurora arrived home at five, them both groaning when they spotted the mess their parents, Felicity and Kent had left the house in. Glancing over at each other they automatically started to get to work, hoping that they had enough time before their parent’s would arrive. Every so often Lyric would glance at the tacky watch on her wrist, biting her lip when the six o’clock mark came closer and closer.

The house was clean in half an hour, the television was already switched on to the Rugby for Kent when he arrived home and dinner was halfway to the ready mark. The dining table was set up with a silky, white table cloth covering the stained, wooden surface. Candles were lit in the centre and an empty, floral designed plate was placed on either end of the table.

Next to the plates sat a fork, knife and spoon in correct order along with a crimson napkin and a small saucer. In front of the plates sat a glass filled with cold water, empty wine glasses beside them. Lyric had made sure that everything was perfect before she started bake a cake and make up custard and cream.

Checking on the dinner she noticed that it still had a good half an hour to go before it would be fully cooked. Biting her lip nervously, she looked at the time again, 6:02. The door slammed open as Felicity and Kent stumbled into the kitchen, already drunk.

“Where’s our fucking dinner?” Kent cursed, narrowing his eyes onto Lyric as he swayed from the alcohol.

“I-in the oven,” Lyric stuttered, lowering her head.

“It's not ready!?” Felicity screeched stepping forwards with a raised hand.

Lyric was glad Aurora was in her room. She was glad that she had forced Aurora to do her homework.

Lyric knew not to move, not to flinch but to just take it. She wasn’t surprised when she stumbled backwards after the slap, her hand automatically rising up to rub her throbbing, red cheek.

“I want my food now!” she growled, glancing around the kitchen at the mess Lyric had yet to clean up. “What is this? This kitchen is a fucking pigsty! Clean it up!” she growled before turning on her heel and staggering out of the kitchen after Kent who had already left to watch Television.

She knew the would get worse. There was still dinner to come, then desert and the rest of the night if she wasn’t dismissed. She wouldn’t be. She rarely ever is.

The dinner was ready faster than expected, placing the roast chicken, vegetables and gravy onto the table, she filled the wine glasses with red wine and moved to the lounge room where her parents sat, eyes focused on the television where they both held empty bottles of alcohol, a few cans already scattered around their chairs.

“D-dinners ready,” Lyric stuttered.

“Fucking finally,” Kent growled, pulling himself up to his feet.

Kent moved forwards to tower over Lyric, shoving her back with full force so she collided against the stained, cream wall. Felicity stumbled after her husband, a cackle leaving her chapped lips.

Letting out a groan, she pulled herself away from the wall, moving herself back into the kitchen to continue making the dessert.

“Fucker!” Felicity growled.

Lyric, instantly knew that Felicity was calling her, stepping forwards, she entered the dining room. “Yes mother?”

“The gravy is too thick,” she hissed from the opposite end of the table, throwing the water glass directly at her.

Lyric didn’t move, she knew it was best not to, but she did flinch. Squeezing her eyes shut, she raised her hands to defend her face, feeling the water against her palms before she felt the glass shatter. The glass dug into her hands, some of it flying off and hitting her thin cheeks, scraping some skin off, others digging in. Swallowing back the tears, Lyric lowered her stinging hands to look at Felicity.

“W-would you like me to m-make it thinner?” Lyric offered.

“I wouldn’t call you out here for nothing,” Felicity growled.

Lyric nodded and stepped slowly towards Felicity, grabbing the bowl of gravy away from her with both hands, ignoring the pain as the glass drove deeper into her skin. When Lyric turned her back, she locked eyes with Kent, his tanned, wrinkled face smirking at Lyric.

“W-would you like me to m-make yours thinner as well, f-father?”

In reply Kent scowled, grabbing his gravy bowl he pegged it at Lyric hitting her square in the stomach where her large bruise was located. The hot gravy spraying entirely over Lyric, burning her skin as the bowl dropped, undamaged to the floor, landing on one of Lyric’s bare toes. Wincing, Aislinn smiled and picked up the bowl, placing it beneath her mother’s bowl before scurrying out of the dining room, avoiding the glass on the floor as the two drunken parents laughed at their daughter.

Lyric made up another bowl of gravy as fast as she could, making it thinner than the last as she washed out both bowl and her hands. Lyric pulled out the larger shards of glass before moving back into the dining room, placing the gravy in front of her parent’s.

“Fuck dinner, I want dessert,” Felicity growled, throwing the plates and gravy bowl onto the ground, them all shattering as they made contact with the tiled ground.

Nodding, Lyric picked up Kent’s dinner and moved back into the kitchen before returning again with the dessert. Lyric didn’t look at them as she placed the food onto the table, quickly moving away again to clean up the kitchen. Her parent’s didn’t call her again after that, after about half an hour Lyric was certain that they had returned to the lounge room.

Swallowing lightly, Lyric cleaned up the mess in the dining room before moving upstairs, hoping that she wouldn’t be needed by her parents for the rest of the night.