Title: Yearnings.

Author: Julia Banes.

Archive: If you want this...

Category: Umm... Death-fic? Abuse...

Series/Sequel: Definitely not.

Summary: What happens on one night, when things just get too much.

Author's notes: This answers PEJA's Drabble/Slice-of-life challenge.

WARNING: This classifies as a dark-fic: abuse, suicidal thoughts, and eventually...

Feedback welcomed. :D

Yearning,
By Julia Banes.

Lying here on my bed, I feel that the darkness of the night is appropriate. It's just after midnight; the Witching Hour, the Twilight Hour. Shifting, trying to get more comfortable in my bed, my bruises, achesand twinges in my bones remind me that moving is not a good idea.

I couldn't help but think of what the pain would be like in the coming morning. A hot bath had helped, but not being allowed to stay in there for longer than twenty minutes is not long enough to be beneficial. My right hand curls around my left hand; they're both cold to the touch. Like my heart, I think without any amusement.

*That*, had been torn out, thrown around, crushed, cut and mutilated before eventually being stomped on, to its' death. I feel numbness there now, all over my body, except for the ache in my stomach. There had been no food for me, by the time I came home, except for two slices of
bread. But it wasn't just the ache of hunger, it was the ache of loneliness; bitterness; and the
ache of betrayal. Being turned against, by the very friends you loved, was not pleasant. Being hurt, by those people who had supposed to have cared for you since you were their child, was completely unthinkable.

But yet, I had managed, and survived everything that had been thrown at me. Until now.
Staring at the ceiling, my vision swam, and I tried desperately not to get sick. I knew that I would not make the bathroom and toilet in time.

Having checked that my bruises were not open, I found that my side above my left hip was open and bleeding. Great, yet one more thing to be punished for, come morning. Stumbling out of bed, I go into the bathroom, retrieving the bandages from the medical-kit kept in there. I don't put the light on, for fear of waking someone up inadvertantly. I quietly run some warm water in the basin, and flick a pinch of antiseptic powder in, to make the water turn into a thick, antiseptic paste.

Wetting a damp cloth with some clean water, I wipe away the blood dribbling from the wound. Holding the warm cloth there for a moment, I let the warmth enter my body, reaching my toes and hands, but never that cold place inside of me; that numb hole that was my heart.

Removing the cloth, I dip my fingers into the paste, and smear it over the wound, barely preventing a flinch away from the sharp pain that flares up on the touch. I try to remember to breath deeply, as I wipe my hand clean. Reaching for the bandage, I carefully wind it around my waist, tying it off with a knot. There would be hell to pay in the morning, once my use of a bandage had been discovered.

Returning to my room that was a cupboard with just a bed, I didn't make it to my bed; instead, I sank to the little bit of space on the floor that I had. I stare out of the tiny window I have for air, as my shoulders start to shake, tears begin to fall from my eyes, and my whole body shudders silently from the repressed pain and hurt from over the years.

*/Why me???!?! Why is this my life?? Am I so horrible, so evil and wicked that this is what I deserve??/* runs through my mind. My hands wrap themselves around my body, in a mock-attempt to hold myself, to answer my need, to feel held, my yearning to *be* held. */Why is there nobody for me?? No one to tell me that things will be alright?/* My mind shies away from the next logical/illogical thought - Why does nobody stop the pain that I go through??

Before I can control myself, my door opens and a shadow looms in the doorway. "What the hell are you blubbering about now?? Surely not that little punishment I gave you earlier for being late to come home, and for supper??" the voice says softly. I can't help myself, I cower on the floor in terror and hate myself for it. */Please don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!
Please don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! /*

"Get up, idiot.... I am *sorely* tempted to punish you for waking me up when you were in the bathroom... You know I have to take your sister to the clinic tomorrow, and I need my sleep! What did you do in there anyway?" the voice asks. A flash of jealousy at the mention of *her*, before my mind registers the rest of the question.

Resignation that I know I'm going to be punished, I pull up my nightshirt to show the now-blood-stained bandage. Silence. I peak up at the figure, wondering, before the first blow lands. Cringing, I try to make myself as small as possible. I hear the hiss of the belt being looped, and try to stay as still as I could. By the time the figure leaves, I am simply a mess on the floor.

*/I can't do this anymore. I just ~can't~ /* goes through my mind, and the knowledge is a heavy weight. It is as certain as the sun shall rise. With a shuddered sigh, my mind accepts that fact.
I also know that I have nowhere to go, no one to turn to. If I ran, I had no money, and there was no money in the house, that was also a certain fact.

My body starts to register the pain that's been inflicted, and protests its' treatment. */Shuddup/* I snarl in my mind, but the pain doesn't go away. It never does. My head throbs, my neck twinges, my shoulders stiffen, my back.... is in ribbons, by the feel of things. Out of sheer desperation, I try to get up, and get to where my clothes were stored - I had a hidden stash of painkillers there. As I put weight on my legs, I fall.

My body objects again to this treatment, and I know that if I don't get painkillers, the pain will get worse. So, I try again, gingerly putting weight on my legs, holding onto either side of my walls in the cupboard that is my room. Stumbling, I make it to my stash. Popping open the lid, I shuffle two out onto my waiting hand, but a whole lot more come pouring out the bottle.

My mind flashes.

I retrieve a glass of water from the kitchen quietly, before pouring the entire bottle into the water.
Returning to my room, I scribble a brief note, before lying on my bed. I pause. With my mind made up, the pain seems to retreat a little. But that gaping hole inside my heart never leaves.
My soul aches, with the knowledge of what drove me to this point, and the pain of what I'd experienced.

I bring the glass to my bruised mouth, and drink. Halfway, I pause, breath, and finish the glass.
There is no turning back for me now. My yearnings for this to be over are eased. My eyes close, never to open to this cruel world again.

~I always knew that I was never what you wanted. Goodbye.~

-Fin.