The Handprint

As Gaby's bare feet moved across the cool asphalt,  she felt at ease. The worst was over now. Pulling at her torn velvet mini dress and fixing her knotted auburn tresses she could feel it happening all over again.The spinning trees, the fists attacking her, the strong hand clutching her throat. The agonizing pain and blood dripping down her back. Her meagre hands grasping the dirt as if it was her only salvation, trying to drag herself away from the horrid scene. They were too strong there was too many, Gaby couldn't defend herself. It felt like the scene lasted for days and when it was done, she felt as if she was choking on her soul, gasping for air. Writhing in silent agony, she looked around frantically as if looking to God for answers.

"Why did this happen to me?" Gaby thought, "Why did it have to be me?"

There was no answer. She was alone. 

She could see the corner that turned onto her street, so close she could feel the warm embrace of her bed and yet so far away she felt as if it could all happen again, at any second. She longed to be home, safe. Quickening her pace Gabby could feel it again, a flash of what had happened. Pressing her eyes shut Gabby tried to block out the memories but they kept ambushing her, assaulting her with every motion. The fists coming at her, the cackle of a young girl, the mumbling of a older boy and her screams of anguish. 

"Must i relive this night every time i close my eyes?" Gaby questioned

There was no answer again. She was alone. 

Gabby kept feeling as if the shadows were following her closing in. Looking over her shoulder periodically she couldn't handle her own paranoia any longer. Sprinting the length in-between her and her home her sanctuary, her protector. 

Slowly slipping her key into the metal lock and gently opening to door so as not to awake her parents Gabby crept up the stairs and into her dimly lit, crimson powder room. Before turning on the lights Gabby paused to slow her pulse and listen to see if she had woken her parents. After a moment Gabby flicked on the lights revealing to her horror her make up strewn over her face and her auburn hair in tangles. Her grey eyes red from her hot tears. She was covered in bruises. The worst was on her neck, she could see clearly a hand print  marked her. 

"It will be my war paint." Gabby decided.

 Her arms and legs were marked the same. She was scared to take off her tattered dress to look at what other horrid markings she may find. Running a cloth under cool water Gabby pressed the cloth against the dried blood which ran down her neck and arms. She was surprised to see how much blood she had really lost. 

She no longer saw the unharmed, bright-eyed 16 year old who loved to volunteer at the crisis centre, to ice skate and be an active member in student council that left after dinner that night, but instead saw a different girl who didn't look like the girl she once knew. She was dark, angry, and hungry for revenge. The police wouldn't do anything, the kids who attacked her had wealthy parents that would pay their way out of the whole situation and everything would get worse, possibly even escalate.  She would personally take care of this, never again would she be the victim but instead be the survivor, the sole survivor.The girl in the mirror grimaced maniacally bearing blood stained teeth.  

Turning off the light and creeping across the hall Gabby snuck into her lavender bedroom. Slipping into her comforting bed, the new Gabby plotted against her assailants finding peace within their fate, while clutching her teddy bear.