XLVII

I hurt. Everywhere. My ankle was broken from an awkward fall I’d taken the previous day. Amanda had reset the ankle herself and wrapped it tightly but it still blazed with pain. My ribs where Amanda had beaten me were black and blue and it was difficult to breathe deeply. My thighs had welts from the belt Amanda had used when I fell again after hurting my ankle and my face was swollen from the fresh slaps I’d received. My left shoulder was separated and swollen and my wrist ached. I was, in short, a mess.

Memories had been flooding my mind the past two days I’d been back “home” and none of them were pleasant. This abuse, because it was not about training if, in fact, it ever had been, was Amanda’s unbridled rage at my running away. It was her dominance of me and a way to shatter me. I looked down at my wrists where the lines marking my misery were permanently etched in my skin and sighed. If she was trying to shatter me it wasn’t working. My mind was slowly awakening to the horrors inflicted on me before I ran away and I found myself, surprisingly, not trying to shut them out.

As more of my life opened like rooms in a house with the curtains slowly being pulled back to let in the light I found myself pitying Amanda more than hating her. I remembered the nights she would sit alone and drink, tears running down her face as she held an old pair of dancing tights. I remembered how violent she would get after drinking and how scared I was but, looking back, she was hurting inside and was unable to cope with it so she lashed out to make others feel some of the pain she felt in her heart. Unfortunately, the one she unleashed that pain on was me.

I heard the footsteps outside the door and sighed. She was coming to tell me what I’d done wrong that day, it seemed, and to take her frustration out on me. It’s ok, I thought to myself. It’s just my body. I love someone and that will keep my soul and heart and mind intact. Sachi will save me. I know she will, so I can endure. I will endure.

“Akaaariiii,” Amanda called, chuckling to herself as she unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting the light from the hall pierce the dark of my room like a blade. She was plainly drunk. I sighed in misery at the abuse I knew would be unleashed on me.

“Hello, Auntie,” I replied meekly, slowly sitting up, every muscle and joint in my body aching.

“Today’s practice was shit,” Amanda slurred at me, holding what looked to be an envelope in her hand.

“I’m sorry, Auntie,” I said, head still lowered to the ground.

“Does your leg hurt, Akari?” Amanda taunted.

“Yes, Auntie,” I said dutifully.

“It looked like it hurt, yes, yes. But the bone’s been set so you’ll be able to keep dancing, unlike me! Unlike me! I have excuses for not being able to dance! You? You have no excuses for that pathetic practice!” Amanda yelled, coming forward and grabbing my swollen ankle roughly and yanking me off the bed. Despite my best efforts to not do so I screamed in pain. She dragged me into the middle of the room and quickly put her foot down on my throat, pressing until my screams devolved into an airless gurgle, my body struggling of its own volition to get air. For a long moment she kept her foot on my throat before finally stepping away. I caught a breath and coughed, curling into a ball I took long, gasping breaths. Even here, my mind thought placidly, even now, I feel nothing for her but pity.