Chapter Thirteen - WorthlessMature

Katherine stared down at the knife, looking at it with mixed emotions. She thought about her stepfather, abusing her in every possible way, sometimes even letting her stepbrother join in on the torture. She thought about her stepbrother, a short, muscular brute who loved to abuse her, simply because it made him feel more masculine or something. She thought about the way he would grab her by the wrist, practically crushing the bones, and burn the back of her hand with lit cigarettes, twisting them into the pale, thin skin. She remembered how he would laugh as she tried to pull her hand away from him, as the pain started to make her eyes water. She never cried though. She had vowed never to cry again when she was twelve years old, and had basically not broken that vow since. She did not cry when she got a new piercing or tattoo, no matter how much it hurt. She especially did not cry over people. They were not worth shedding tears for.

Katherine's thoughts turned to her stepfather, and her mother. It hurt that her mother, who was so like her in looks, was her exact opposite when it came to morals. She thought of her mother as a gold-digger, who had married an abusive rapist just for his money. But what hurt the most, what really made her mad with loathing, was the fact that her mother had protected that abusive pig. She had kicked Katherine out of the house at the age of seventeen, after Katherine's first attempt to get rid of The Monster, the abuser that crept into her room late at night, or when her mother was gone out, or sometimes when her worthless mother was downstairs in the living room, watching television, knowing what was going on in her only daughter's room, but ignoring it all. That made Katherine furious.

Katherine rubbed her fingers along the necklace of dark blue and black bruises flowering on the skin of her neck. Her throat felt tight and sore. Still, that was her punishment for almost, just for a fraction of a second, nearly trusting another human being. Human beings, particularly but not exclusively male human beings, were not to be trusted. She clutched the knife tightly in one fist. Her face was covered in blood and dirt, stained with dust. She opened the door and stepped out into another hallway, a dark corridor with no windows. She could hear a noise somewhere, a noise that sounded like insane laughter. She followed this sound down through the corridor, to another doorway. She opened the door, into a windowless, dimly lit room.

Katherine thought that she was alone, until she heard another burst of insane laughter, and looked towards the other side of the room, where an old threadbare couch was shoved against the wall. A horrible, sick feeling gripped her as she saw that the figure lying on the couch was of a small, thin build, much like her own, except this one had shoulder length hair, bleached blond, the dark red roots starting to grow out.

"Is that you?" she whispered, horrified, praying to a god that she did not believe in, hoping that she was wrong. Gently, her hands trembling with revulsion, she turned the figure over onto its back.

"So, my worthless daughter finally came to see me, after all these years!" Said the woman who had been lying face down on the couch. Katherine nearly screamed.

"You're dead. They told me you were dead. Brian texted me, someone gave him my phone number. You died of cancer when I was twenty-one!" Katherine's voice was shrill with fear.

"I am dead. And so is your stepfather, the one you killed when you were nineteen, you worthless whore! But Brian is still alive! Yes, your beloved stepbrother wants to pay you a visit! He was very fond of his father, wasn't very happy that some bitch killed him and there was no way to prove it!" The woman cackled in a witchy manner.

"You worthless whore"...that's what you called me when you kicked me out! Katherine thought to herself.

The woman on the couch, Katherine's mother, shook with silent laughter, and eventually went limp, not moving or making a sound. Katherine checked for a pulse, and there was none. Shaking with fear, anger, confusion and fury, she left the room.

The End

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