Still Nothing

Stella was her punching bag, every day she came home drunk, tired and wasted, wallowing in misery. What could a girl like her do when no one—not one person was on her side? It never stopped, not until the day of that accident and even as soon as she was released from the hospital, they were back at it. Not once, even once—

"Stella! Hey, Stella!"

She lifted her head, her vision blurring. She slipped out of the chair and moved around him. "S-sorry, I need to go back inside." Her fingers tangled in her wet her and she yanked them free, welcoming the pain outside of the one tearing her up inside. 

"Stella, where are you going?" 

"Inside." She forced a smile and moved to leave, but he grasped her hand, stopping her. "Young miss, I am not one to worry so easily, but you need to go home. Please. You are losing it." 

"I'm not. I am just tired and that's what it is." 

She yanked her hand free. 

"Wait. Stella."