Crimson Waters

'I’ll ask him to the party tomorrow ok?’ Jordan said to her closest friend Carly.
‘Hey look, I gotta run...Mum will be home soon...Cya later.’
As Jordan placed her mobile on the carpet beside her, her gaze wandered to the world outside her window. No one she knew walked past, except for the strange old woman who wore really freaky clothes. Usually she wore rainbow coloured tights and a dirty white jumper, but today she wore a greenish brown dress, covered in grease stains and other markings.

‘One minute left...’ she whispered softly as she glanced at her watch before crawling across the floor and digging her ipod from the depths of her bag. Again she checked the time, sitting back down against her bed.

‘Any second….’ Jordan mumbled, placing the earphones into her ears.
'You little slut!' the old woman yelled, walking up the small hallway and bursting into her daughters room.
'What is this?' the woman asked, holding a black silk bra on one finger.
‘I found it in MY bathroom...’
'It’s...It’s my bra...You bought it for me last week....’ Jordan replied, looking up at her mother, taking one of her earphones from her ear.
'Liar!' the woman screamed, throwing the bra onto the floor.
'You are a bloody liar... Did you know that..?' she said, leaning down and spitting the words in Jordan’s face. Jordan looked into the vivid green eyes of her mother, knowing what was coming next. She squealed loudly as the stinging slap hit her face hard, causing her to be knocked against the wall.
'You know what I think of liars?' the woman asked, stepping toward the cowering girl, reaching her hand to Jordan’s head and pulling the girl to her feet by her thick black hair.
'I think all liars should be murdered....’ Another slap hit Jordan across the cheek. She stumbled backwards onto her bed.
'You’re just like your father... Lying about a bra....’ Jordan winced as her mother grabbed her ear and again pulled her to her feet.
'Dad didn’t lie... It was your bra....’ Jordan mumbled, only to receive a punch to the stomach. Jordan fell to the ground, tears now washing her eyeliner down her cheeks.

'One day you will learn that I don’t tolerate liars under my roof....’ the woman said, storming out of the bedroom and slamming the door behind her. Jordan tried hard to stop trembling and to hold the tears in just long enough to find her pocket knife. It was a routine. Her mother comes into her room, beats her for practically no reason and leaves Jordan to cause more pain to herself. The black haired girl reached under her bed to find the old biscuit tin her father had left her and pulled the bloody pocket knife from within it. Jordan sighed deeply, unfolding the knife and rolling up her sleeve, her memory racing back to when her father was alive.

She was about ten, way before the time she was sent to live with her mum. The young girl was very athletic, though she mainly took part in hurdles.
‘You can go far if you try....’ her grandmother always said. It was those words that made Jordan push herself to her limits. Apart from her father, her grandmother was the only person who believed in her from the start. Her father had asked her not to race only moments before she was due on the track, telling her the ground would be too slippery.
‘A small sun shower won't make a difference daddy...’ the bubbly young girl said, looking into her fathers deep grey eyes. The man sighed heavily before a proud smile swept across his weathered features.
‘Ok sweet heart. Good luck.’ The girls head nodded happily before she bounded past her dad and toward the track.

Little did she know that was her last race. Towards the end Jordan fell and broke quite a few bones, and all through her recovery she wished she had pulled out of the race like her dad wanted.

Her memory skipped ahead a few years to her father’s funeral. She was alone, except for her horse, for the funeral was over and a lot of people had left for the wake. Her father’s coffin had been lowered into the grave, and she stood above it, looking down on the black wooden box. Her beloved horse Shetan nudged her arm, eager to get home to his paddock.
‘Excuse me...Jordan?’ The young girl jumped at the unfamiliar voice, and spun around to glare at the blonde woman.
‘Jordan...I’m sorry about your father, but its time to go home…Your mother is waiting....’
Jordan’s grayish eyes burned with hatred as she looked up at the woman, looking briefly toward the white commodore that her mother was sitting in.
‘I’m not going...’ the girl mumbled angrily.
‘I’m sorry sweetheart, but it’s the law. You must go to your mother'
‘I hate her...I’m not living with her and neither is Shetan.’ Jordan patted her black horse’s neck, his reins clasped tightly in her hands.
‘Jordan wait...’ the blonde woman said, striding after Jordan as she sprinted across the cemetery with Shetan in tow. Not long after Jordan was driven out of the silent place, never to see Shetan or her father’s grave again.

As she came back into reality, she sat quietly for a second, listening to the outside world around her. She was sick of being beaten by her mother, sick of feeling like her fathers death was her fault, and this was her only escape. She placed the knife’s cold blade on her already scarred skin, preparing herself for the stinging pain. She inhaled deeply as she pushed down on the knife and dragged it across her wrist. The crimson liquid flooded firstly around the sharp blade, but slowly made its way down her arm, only to drip off her elbow and onto her jeans. She placed another bloody slash above the first cut along with one beneath it. The blood began to gush freely down her arm, turning her blue jeans into a deep purplish colour. Jordan placed the knife softly on the carpet and held her bloody arm with her right hand. A small smile formed on her pretty face as she lay on the floor in the middle of her room, her eyes closing slowly as she began the escape from her living hell.