Rolling Stone Savior. (Discontinued)

Chapter Seven

A/N: She wrote the chapter, she made the cover...that's why I dedicated to her :)

“Oh God, thank you, it’s my baby!” My mom exclaimed when I walked into the parent-teacher conference room. Her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when I turned the corner. I rolled my eyes in disgust as I felt her arms wrap around my body.

“Goodness, Stephanie. You had us worried.” I looked over at my dad who was dressed in a very striking black suit. I looked him up and down realizing how long since I’ve last seen him dressed like this.

I pouted solemnly as I sat down across from Principal Rosenthal, hating her now more than ever. “I’m sorry…Daddy.” The words were bitter to my tongue and I felt the need to throw up my breakfast from this morning.

“It’s okay,” He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and flashed me a smile. “Mrs. Rosenthal, is there any way that we can clean this up with child services and the school board?”

Mrs. Rosenthal sighed and looked through my records. “Well, of course there is,” I looked at her with pleading eyes, mentally asking her to say no. “But, she’ll have to do Saturday school for the next two months to make up for what she’s missed.”

“Do you hear that, baby girl?” I winced at the sound of her voice, gaining a small headache.

“Yes…Mom.” I gulped down the lump that formed in my throat and wiped my face.

I seemed to tune out their words as they played the role of the oh-so-concerned-about-our-daughter role. If only Mrs. Rosenthal knew the troubles I went through at their house. I don’t even think of it as a home anymore. Truth be told, I’ve been happier than ever since I decided to run away.

I looked around the room at the motivational pictures of Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, Joe Frasier, Oprah, and many others that were scattered around the room. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve been in this room; however, I do know that it’s been less than I can count on one hand. Each time my parents were supposed to come, they always gave some sorry excuse. And each time they gave an excuse, I missed out on endless opportunities.

As I sit here, I think about the other, two thousand students that occupy this school. Do they have to endure this same torture as me? Nah, I don’t think that they do. Do they even know what a bruise that was set by your own parent looks like? How about the verbal abuse and not being able to live a normal teenage life? No, they don’t understand.

“Stephanie…Stephanie!” I heard my dad call out my name as we walked back into the hell hole I once called home. It still looked the same; I see my mom has done some remodeling to the downstairs area.

“Yes, sir?” I said in a stern voice as I turned around and looked at him with narrowed.

“You thought you could get away,” He slipped off the dress shoes he was wearing and loosened his tie. “You thought that your little friend wasn’t going to tell?!” He raised his hand and in an instant I was back to living my old life.

I squealed under his blows as I screamed and tried to shield my body. “I’m sorry! I swear I won’t do it again.” I cried as I heard a laugh escape my mom’s mouth.

“Look at you. You’re so pathetic.” I heard the flicker of a lighter and soon smelled the nasty and gut wrenching scent of a cigarette.

“That’s…That’s no way to treat your daughter. I knew it was all an act at the school.” I sat as I wiped my mouth free of the blood that gathered together in the corner of my mouth. My bottom lip has split on impact as soon as his fist collided with my face.