When I was a little girl, I believed in fairy tales. I believed in princes and princesses and knights in shining armor. I believed in forever and happily ever afters.
I was ten when reality hit me. My mom brought the evil home with her and there wa...
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Haven
Luckily, the rest of the day went by quickly. The couple of times I had spotted Barbie and her followers in the hallways, she, along with her two sidekicks, had glared at me. I tried to ignore them but I couldn't help feeling nervous that she'd singled me out. My life was difficult enough and I didn't have the time or energy to deal with a jealous bimbo, especially when she had no reason to be jealous.
I hoped that if I just ignored her she would eventually leave me alone, but somehow I knew she was one of those people that would just keep at it. From what Chris had told me about Damien Knight, I didn't have a very high opinion of him. The fact that he was interested in someone like Barbie, the superficial type, made me think even less of him.
I walked to my locker after the school bell rang, signaling the end of school. At my locker I sorted through my books quickly so I would still make it to the bus stop on time. If I missed the bus it would take at least thirty minutes, if not longer, to walk home. Once I was done, I closed my locker and hitched my schoolbag over my shoulder. I walked quickly down the hall toward the front of the school. Just as I was about to walk out of the school, I heard someone call my name.
I didn't turn around to see who it was, but someone grabbed my wrist and spun me around. Automatically, without even registering the owner of the hand around my wrist, I cowered away. It was a reflex that had developed with years of abuse. My skittish gaze locked with the blue eyes of Damien Knight.
What the hell did he want?
"Sorry," he mumbled. Seeing my reaction to his touch, he released my wrist. "I called out to you but you obviously didn't hear me."
From where I stood by the entrance to the school I could see the school bus was at the bus stop and students were starting to filter into it. I began to panic because I didn't have long to make it to the bus stop before the bus left without me.
"I just wanted to talk to you," he informed me, a little out of breath. He ran his hand through his hair.
My eyes scanned the nearby vicinity for any sign of Barbie or any of her sidekicks. If any of them saw me standing there with Damien, they wouldn't be happy. I didn't give Damien a chance to say whatever he was going to say because I turned and walked quickly toward the bus stop. He didn't try to stop me and I made it onto the bus.
I sat down in the first open seat I could find; it happened to be a window seat, and as much as I tried to not look, my eyes found Damien still standing where I'd left him. His eyes met mine and he looked a little annoyed. I turned and concentrated on the floor of the bus in front of me, ignoring him.
Most girls would probably kill for any type of attention from him, but there was nothing he could say to me that I would be interested in hearing. I couldn't understand that despite all my efforts to keep everyone at a distance somehow Chris still sought me out at lunchtime. He was determined to be my friend even though I'd made it perfectly clear I wasn't interested. Now I had Damien trying to talk to me as well. I wished everyone would just leave me alone.
I pushed thoughts of Chris and Damien from my mind when I entered my house. The nervous knot began to tighten in my stomach. The house was quiet. There were empty beer bottles littered around the sofa. The stale smell of smoke hung in the hair. The ashtrays overflowed with cigarette butts that added to the horrible stale smell in the air. I hated the smell.
With a sigh, I dropped my schoolbag by the front door. First, I began to pick up the discarded beer bottles, and then I emptied the ashtrays. Once I was done cleaning up I went into my room. I got my pajamas and went for a quick shower. Then in my room I got my books out and I finished my homework. When my homework was done I went into the kitchen to start making supper.
There wasn't much in the cupboards. It was my responsibility to buy the groceries. My mom would give me a certain amount of money to buy what I needed for the week. It wasn't much, but somehow I managed to get enough groceries out of it to last the week. We lived on mostly pasta and sauce or canned food.
My mouth watered at the memory of the apple Chris had given me for lunch today. I couldn't stop the warm feeling from blooming inside me when I thought of how kind he'd been, making an extra lunch for me. He never asked why I never had lunch, he just packed me one. I shook my head to shake the thoughts from my mind. I couldn't let him get under my skin.
I made some packaged spaghetti with cheese sauce. Pasta dishes were always quick and easy to make.
Dread began to build up inside of me while I waited for Grant to get home from work. He hadn't hit me yesterday, so chances were I wouldn't be so lucky tonight. Some weeks were worse than others, but he would hit me at least three times a week. If it was a bad week, he'd hit me every day. Sometimes he'd only punch me once or twice and other days he'd hit me more than that; it all depended on his mood.
Most people would run or fight back, but it only made things worse, so I just let him hit me. It was easier. If I didn't put up a fight, it would end quickly. I'd learned from an early age to let him hit me without fighting back, because once I'd fought back and he'd beaten me black and blue. I hadn't been able to go to school for a week.
My breath hitched in my throat when I heard the front door creak open. I stood by the fridge, waiting for Grant to enter the kitchen. A few seconds later, he stepped through the doorway. He looked tired and annoyed. It wasn't a good sign. His clothes were dirty from working on cars. He stepped closer. He smelled of car oil and cigarettes. His cold eyes remained on me as he took another step closer. His expression was hard to read. It took such restraint to just stand there when I knew what was coming. Instinct cried for me to run, but I ignored it and held my body still in front of him.
I didn't look directly at him; instead, my eyes kept watch on his hands. They were dirty from working on the cars. He stopped right in front of me. That was the first sign. The second sign was him fisting his hands. My eyes flickered to his and I could see the evil glint in his brown eyes. I closed my eyes and waited. It took all my self-control not to run and hide. I knew what was coming and there was no escaping it.
