Help Me // z.m

Chapter 8

This is continuing from the last chapter

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I walked upstairs and into my room. I slipped my shoes off and put my bag next to my desk then collapsed on the bed, I closed my eyes and sighed. I laid on my bed and thought about what happened.

It was nice. I thought that it was going to be awkward but it wasn't, it was comfortable. And the food was great. It was nice of Zayn to do that.

I heard footsteps coming up stairs and I sat up. I forgot that Dad was here. And Tyler isn't here with me.

Dad walked into my room and his face hardened. "Who was that?" he asked.

"Who?"

"That boy you were in the car with." He must of seen us through the window.

"He was just giving me a ride home because Tyler had to stay after school," I explained. Dad's face hardened more and he narrowed his eyes at me.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"No, no, he's not my boyfriend," I replied quickly and shook my head. How could he think Zayn was my boyfriend?

"Then who is he to you?" Dad shouted. I jumped slightly and bit my lip. What were Zayn and I? I don't think we're friends.

"Nothing," I said with a shaky voice. He walked over to me and slapped me, hard. My head wiped around to the side and I fell back on my bed. I cupped my cheek as it stung. I felt my eyes start to burn so I tried blinking away the tears.

Dad grabbed my arm and pulled me back up so that I was face to face with him.

"Don't lie to me!" he shouted in my face.

"I'm n-not," I whimpered. He brought his hand back up and slapped me again. I would've fallen on the floor if it wasn't for his hold on my arm. He squeezed my arm tightly as he kept me up. I turned back towards him and hissed at how hard he was holding me. I felt water run down my cheeks and sniffed as I cried.

He glared at me and squeezed my arm tighter. He was breathing heavily in my face and I smelled something strong. I looked into his eyes and noticed how they were kind of red. He's been drinking.

"Dad s-stop. You're hurting m-me," I cried. He squeezed my arm tighter -if that was possible- and glared at me. I'm pretty sure he was cutting off my circulation.

"Don't tell me what to do! You're lying, and I'm going to take care of it," he spat.

"I wasn't lying!" I tried to convince him, but it didn't work. He slapped me again and let go of my arm so that I'd fall. I fell to the floor and tried to put my hands out to break my fall. But I wasn't fast enough and my head hit the floor with a thump.

I hissed and held my head as it pounded. I looked up to see Dad glaring down at me. And just when I thought he was going to leave, he kicked me.

"OW!" I screamed. I laid on the floor on my side and brought my knees up, so that I was laying in a fetal position. He kicked me again, harder this time.

"Dad stop, please!" I cried. He kicked me one last time then stepped back. He was breathing hard and his fist were balled up.

"That ought to teach you," he said then walked out of my room. I heard his bedroom door slam shut and I brought my hands down. I slowly sat up and got off the floor. I winced and held my side where he kept kicking me.

I closed and locked my door then walked over to the mirror. I stared at my reflection and sighed. Both of my cheeks were red and covered in tears. I wiped some of the tears away then lifted my shirt so I could see my stomach. It was red and already starting to bruise. I brought my hand to my stomach and slowly dragged my fingers across the area. I winced and yanked my hand away. I looked at my arm and saw a bruise there too.