Broken noses, hospitals and bruises. What's a guy to do?
R&R please, thanks for reading!
Pushed between the one who loves
And the one who hates
But there isn’t one without the other.
I woke up to the sound of my mom crying. I opened my eyes tentatively to see I was in a hospital, which made sense, considering the ambulance. My mom was here, which made sense because she loved me and would be worried. My dad wasn’t here, which also made sense seeing as he was probably out drinking somewhere as usual, and he didn’t give a fuck about me.
I felt a twinge in my arm, and noticed the needle taped to my lower arm, which was connected to a tube with a bag full of mystery liquid at the top, dripping into my veins. I guess it was some sort of painkiller, because although my nose was heavily bandaged, I couldn’t feel a thing.
My mom made an almost choking sound as she looked up and noticed that I was awake.
“Honey…” She grasped one of my hands tightly. “Oh honey… How are you feeling?”
“I’… I’m okay.” I croaked, my mouth completely dry.
She reached over and brushed my side fringe out of my eyes and very gently stroked my cheek, tears filling in her eyes.
At that moment a nurse walked in; a young, blonde woman with hair in a tight bun and a huge smile plastered on her face.
“Oh, good, you’re awake! Okay, so how are you feeling? If you are in any sort of pain just say and we can up the dosage.” She said as she checked that the tube in my arm was attached correctly, and then fiddled with the bandages covering my nose.
“No… no I’m okay.” I mumbled. “Err… How long am I gonna be in here?”
She stood back up, still smiling at me. I guessed she was one of those people that thought ‘laughter was the best kind of medicine’ and that happiness heals all of something.
“You’ll probably be out by the end of today. Broken noses heal on their own if you give them time, and it doesn’t seem to be out of place so you won’t need any serious treatment. And of course the bruises; you’re jaw, eye; will heal up nicely on their own.” She said to me, and I remembered my dad earlier that morning. They thought the bruises were all the fight. I wondered whether I should correct her… get my dad into trouble. Would it help? If he went to jail, we could survive on our own, mom and I. But… what if there wasn’t enough evidence to send him down? I dreaded to think of the sort of punishment I would receive for almost getting him into trouble, and instantly discarded the idea.
She turned around and speaking to my mom. “He’ll be on a course of quite high strength painkillers for the first few days, the Doctor will give you the prescription, but after that he can just take regular paracetemol whenever he needs to.”
I sighed, wondering whether I would still have to go to school, or whether I would stay at home for a few days. I wasn’t quite sure what one would be the worst option. It was a choice of either going and facing the bullies who caused this and hope that I wouldn’t be ridiculed too much about what happened, or I could sit at home, allowing them to think they’d beating me and I was too scared to come back, whilst my dad sat around and taunted me. I decided I would rather go into school, at least I could hide from them at lunch, and there would be other people around to make sure they didn’t take things too far.
The nurse had one last look at my bandages before saying her goodbyes and leaving me and my mom alone again.
“Mom… I’m sorry.” I whispered. I wasn’t quite sure what I was sorry for. I hadn’t exactly asked to be beaten up. But if I’d have just kept quiet… if I hadn’t been such an idiot she wouldn’t be sobbing in front of my hospital bed. She went to respond but the door opening cut her off.
I looked up, hoping it would be a Doctor telling me I could go home, but instead came face to face with my father. I dropped my gaze and heard my mom whimper slightly. Why? Why did he have to come? I knew he would act as though I had done this on purpose, to spite him somehow.
I looked back up to see him smirk ever so slightly at my heavily bruised, battered and bandaged face. Of course he would find it funny. Sadistic asshole. He paid no attention to my mom, his eyes always fixed on me.
“Always knew you were a little wimp who could never handle himself.” He said as he slipped into a chair. My mom made a noise which sounded a little like a hiccup, but I didn’t turn round to see if she was still crying. It was as though it was only my dad and I in the room.
“Jealous that someone did a better job than you?” I really needed to learn how to hold my tongue, but right then I didn’t care. I knew I would pay for it when I got home, but he couldn’t do anything here, and that gave me the confidence I lacked usually.
He grabbed a fistful of my shirt, dragging me closer to him. His bared teeth replaced the smirk he had walked in with.
“You say that again. Go on. Then you can see who does a better job.” He spat, almost chucking me back to where I was sitting before. I was definitely going to pay for that when I got home. But I didn’t care. What else could he do? Sure, he could cause me physical pain, but not so much that I would have to come back to hospital, because how would that be explained? He couldn’t do anything worse than what he usually did.
The Doctor finally turned up and checked my bandages, pulse, and asked whether I felt dizzy, nauseous or lightheaded, and concluded that I was good to go home, but that I should rest and be aware of any symptoms which could show signs of concussion, just in case.
My dad pissed off as soon as we were out of the hospital, he probably needed a drink, and so I got into the car with my mom and drove home. She hadn’t said a word when my dad was around, and I could still see silent tears cascading down her cheeks.
“It’s okay, mom.” I whispered. She sniffed and smiled a little, not taking her eyes off the road. We drove in silence for the rest of the way; it only took a few minutes to get home. I felt pretty lousy, and went to go to bed as soon as I got in. It was only mid-evening but I could sleep through.
As I got into bed I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and my mom sat on my bed, leaning down to hug me.
“I love you.” She whispered, pressing her lips to my forehead.
“I love you too, mom. Goodnight.”
I woke up to shouting. Screaming. I looked over at my phone, 4:02am. He must’ve gone out for a drink, then. I tried to shut my eyes and block it out; there was nothing I could do to stop him once he was like this. In fact, seeing me would probably make him even angrier, and pretty soon he’d get tired, or be sick, and pass out somewhere in the house and I could get out to school before he woke back up.
I picked up my pillow and covered my head with it, trying, in vain, to block out all of the noise. There was a moment of silence from downstairs, and I lifted the pillow, thinking he had gone to sleep, before I heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. I quickly turned over and closed my eyes, hoping he would just leave me to sleep.
“Boy…” He slurred, and I heard my door swing open with a creak. The stench of beer and vomit flooded my nose, and I kept my eyes tightly shut.
Please let him leave. Please let him leave.
My covers were torn off of me, and I opened my eyes in time to see a fist coming towards me. I yelped in pain as he collided with my already broken nose, tears exploding from my eyes.
“You worthless little shit.” He knocked me onto the floor, kicking me in the stomach, causing me to double over in pain.
“You hear that?” Another kick in the gut, knocking me backwards so I struck my head on my bedside cabinet. “You’re fucking worthless.”
I felt a hand grab my hair, and I was wrenched upwards, gasping in pain. I could feel blood and tears running down my face. He leant down towards me, his sour breath filling my lungs and making me retch.
“Are you fucking crying?” He laughed. “You are! You’re fucking crying! You fucking pussy.” I tried not to look into his eyes. His eyes filled with hate, showing how demented he truly was. Those eyes which were the same colour, the same shape, as my own. I never wanted to become him.
“Worthless fucker.” He slurred before slamming his fist into my jaw and dropping me onto the floor. I watched him walk out of the room, muttering something to himself.
It seemed like forever before I moved. I couldn’t stand this anymore. I didn’t want to live this way.
I dragged myself up from the floor, and towards the bathroom to check the damage. I could hear his loud snoring as I went into the hallway, and anger bubbled up inside of me. What did I do to deserve this? I looked into the mirror, my face stained with blood and tears. I was a mess.
I went and grabbed the painkillers I’d been given at the hospital, the pain from my twice broken nose was threatening to make me black out.
The sun had already half risen, and I crawled into bed trying to think of a way out of this mess.