Under my skin

Chapter 3 - Going in circles

*Author's note*

Hey readers :) There's still not many, but I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far... If you have any requests for a story / fanfic, let me know, I'd be happy to write one!

Any ideas for the story? Do you like where it's going at the moment? It won't be this depressing in the next few chapters, I promise :) I just had to get you to understand what it's like for her at home.

Be ready for twists :D Love you all!

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Chapter 3 - @Julia_Golafshan (twitter)

I ran home, my legs stumbling about everywhere, and gasping for breath, but I finally made it. I quietly slipped in the door, praying to the God above that Dad wouldn't realize I had gone. After all, I had been gone for around two hours; if he had noticed, I was going to be in for it.

As I silently made my way up the stairs, one floorboard creaked - I winced, and kept going up the stairs. Just as I was about to push my door open, I noticed it was already slightly open; I never leave my door open when going out. I walked in and Dad was sitting on my bed, a menacing grin on his face.

"Ivy, where have you been?" he asked in a slurred voice, he had obviously been drinking, and that scared me even more. If dad was drunk... there was no way I could escape his anger. I prepared myself for the worst.

"Dad, I just went out for a run, to the park we used to go to. Do you remember Dad? We went there with... Mom." His face stiffened as I mentioned Mum, and he stood up and started walking towards me.

"Don't you dare mention her to me, you little brat! You went out without my permission, and you think you can get away with it? YOU'RE WRONG!" He face was right in front of my face, his breath stinking like alcohol. "You think you can just do whatever you fucking want and I won't notice? You little bitch, you're going to get the punishment you deserve!"

He left the room, and I knew what he was getting; his leather belt. He hung it in a place in his closet where no one else could see it, mostly because it had spots of blood on it. You probably don't think it hurts, but believe me, it's agonizing pain. Dad tries to hit me as hard as he can, and if he doesn't cause blood, I have welts left for days.

Belt in hand, he walked back into my room. I closed my eyes and waited for the beating - I stopped crying when I was 10, it didn't help me, or make me feel better, it just made Dad angrier.

When it was over, he stalked out of the room, and looked back at me, slumped on the floor. "Bitch, haven't you learnt? I'm the one in charge of this house."

I lay on the ground for a few minutes, trying to focus on the pain, to remind myself what being stupid felt like. But I knew that I had to get myself together for tonight, otherwise Becky would start worrying. She knew I had family problems, but I had never told her about my cutting or how Dad hits me - hopefully, I would be able to avoid it.

She didn't need to worry about me, and besides, tonight was the night she had been waiting for: for Nathan to ask her out, and I wasn't going to let her down.

I have a bathroom walk-in from my room, and a special first aid kit under the sink that I use to help me clean up after these little... 'events'. I used a type of antiseptic that stopped my injuries from getting infected, and trying to not to hurt myself anymore, I pulled out the bottle, and started spreading the lotion all over my arms and legs.

As I was, I saw my razor on the edge of the bathtub, and the first thought that came to my head was 'cut, cut, take away the pain, you won't worry any longer...'