Even if she had arrived ten minutes earlier, the result would still have been the same. The blow didn't hit her until seconds later. Carmen's hand instinctively went to her face, fingers running over the mark that would, hours later, turn into a bruise.
"You idiot!" Her mother grabbed her hair, pulling her toward the couch with one powerful shove. She began to abused the only thing she possessed in the world, other than her pride. Carmen sat up on the couch, saying nothing but a few protests.
"Please, stop." The seventeen-year old had tears streaming down her face. She closed her eyes as her mother slapped her for the third time.
Hours later, in the privacy of Carmen's bedroom, the night dragged on. She sat Indian style on her bed, dark bangs falling in front of her face. Her blood-shot eyes stared blankly at a moment to the blade in her left hand for only a few seconds before it met her skin once more.
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