Then There Was Nothing

(Bella’s Point of View)

Let's see.. I finished my English essay, I completed my math homework, now I just have to finish my…

The front door slamming caught my attention. I knew he’d be home sooner or later, but that didn’t stop the dread that washed over me. I could tell he had been drinking by the loud stumbling down the hallway.

Oh great.

As the stumbling got closer, I couldn’t help the anger that was bubbling inside of me. This was my mother’s fault. Three years ago she married a man who ruined our lives. He was an abusive, foul, sorry excuse for a human being who had an ego the size of Antarctica. I hated to look at him, let alone share a house with him, but I had no choice in the matter. My mother knew what he was like, but she found reprieve in the moments he decided to take his anger out on me instead of her. Nice, right?

The first time he struck me was one of the worst moments in my life because my mother was across the room by the door. As his hand raised and came down across my cheek, she turned her head, attempting to not bear witness to it. Eventually, however, it got easier to deal with the pain. Now, the pain and stress was normal for me.

My heartbeat sped up with each step that brought him closer to my door. In an attempt to escape what I knew was inevitable, I lay down in bed and pretended to be asleep. My heart skipped a beat with the rattling of the doorknob. The door was locked, but it was impenetrable. Obscenities flowed freely from him as he beat against the door. I hated how much of a reaction he got from me. No matter how hard I tried to be brave, I always failed because my body succumbed to the fear he created in me. I was tired of his games, but they didn’t cease to hurt me.

I relaxed slightly as his footsteps moved away from my door, but relief was short-lived as he turned and kicked my door open. A startled cry broke free of my throat as he towered over me. The scent of alcohol poured off of him in waves and I knew what that meant for me. My eyes shut tightly. I wished I was invisible, but it was of no use as he tore the blanket from me. My ears were met with his wicked laugh when he saw me trembling in the bed below him.

My arm ached as he grabbed it and threw me across the room. His strength threw me into the wall with enough force to immediately damage my body. My leg fell at an odd angle and my head was throbbing from where it hit the wall. Fear filled every part of me. He was really going to hurt me this time.

Heaviness weighed down my body as I fell flat on the floor. Black spots were clouding my vision and with each second, my head got heavier. A small part of me wished, hoped, I wouldn’t die. I knew that Phil would be the death of me, but I didn’t want to die; not yet and not this way. I was still young and I deserved to live some kind of life that wasn’t shrouded in fear and pain.

Hope flooded me when I saw him leave the room. I knew something was going on, but I wanted to believe that he finally decided to stop all this torture. My eyes darted around the room and looked at the place I had once thought of as my sanctuary. Of course, it wasn’t anymore, but for a long time, it was where I could escape the stresses of life, and just travel to another place with the help of my books and writing.

My relief at Phil’s absence was shattered when he returned holding a knife in his right hand. His customary evil smirk was firmly planted on his face and I cringed into the wall. Unwanted images filled my mind of what was going through his head. I knew it would either involve death or unbearable pain; perhaps even both. Nothing would surprise me with this man.

"You are such a sick sight to see. You’re pathetic,” he slurred. “You can't even defend yourself. You are nobody and you have nobody." He smirked at that because he knew he was right. He had somehow charmed my mother to be his loyal puppet who stood by his side no matter what he did to me.

I don't know why it still pulled at my heart when he said things like that, but it did. Of course he couldn’t stop there and grant me mercy. He continued, “That’s right nobody loves you or cares about you and nobody will care when you're dead."

Again, I knew he was right. I couldn't even defend myself because I was a weak, crippled, girl. Knowing that, I welcomed the death that he threatened. It was better than this hell I've dealt with for years. I wanted it all to stop. I wanted the pain, the fear, the loneliness to stop.

Tears streaked my cheeks once I realized this would be my last few moments. My life was in the hands of a monster and there was nothing I could do about it. I was alone but I wasn't weak and I refused to die that way.

I took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "Do what you want to me but know this, I am not weak and you will never be anything more than a murderer." My voice was calm as the last word came out of my mouth.

A look of pure hatred flashed across his face and in one, swift, movement, he raised the knife and sliced it across my arm. Blood seeped from the wound and I realized what it meant. This was it; I was really going to die. I did not want to give him the satisfaction of the pain I felt, so I held my mouth shut as much as I could. Cringing at each strike of the knife, I remained as silent as I could. The pain was unbearable, but somehow I was able to hold it in.

The blood that began to pool around me turned the carpet a bright red. It reminded me of what a brilliant ruby would look like in the sun. I tried to fight the encroaching darkness, but it was winning with each passing second. Right before death claimed me, I heard sirens in the distance and couldn't help but hope that someone would save me before I lost my life.

A few minutes later, I heard someone talking to me but I couldn't understand what they were saying.

Then, there was nothing.