Hope

Hope is defined as a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. Well not to me, Hope is my name, and can only be defined by me as my name. I have no expectations or desire any more. I have no hope, no hope of a happy life, no hope of normality, no hope of escaping. I have no hope. 

I was in my room when I heard a shout from down the stairs. Oh crap!

"Hope! Get down here you slut! Now!" I debated whether or not I should ignore him, but I knew if I did it would be ten times worse. I picked myself up off my bed, which consisted of a thin sheet on the floor, with another one to cover myself in, I didn't have a pillow, that would be too comfortable. I opened my door and walked down the stairs, he was in the living room sitting on the couch. I walked over and stood at the end of the couch, the one farthest away from him. 

"What took you so long? When I shout you come STRAIGHT AWAY DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!!!" I nodded my head. I felt his fist connect with my cheek.

"ANSWER ME YOU FILTHY SLUT!" He screamed at me. 

"Yes Uncle." I whispered, another blow.

"Louder!" 

"Yes Uncle." I said louder than before, he seemed satisfied as he sat back down on the couch.

"Go and make me a sandwich." He said lazily. I walked into the kitchen and started making a ham salad sandwich, it took me less than three minutes and I was back in the living room handing him a plate with the sandwich. He picked it up and took a bite, before spitting it back out again.

"Did you put mayonaise on this?!" He shouted.

"Yes Uncle." It was better to keep the replies short otherwise he'd loose his temper. 

"I. Don't. Like. Mayonnaise." He said slowly. I took a step back. He threw the plate down, smashing it. He liked it last time! He grabbed me by the hair and pulled my face close to his.

"You ungrateful little bitch! I took you into my house after my dear brother died and you don't even know what food I like!" I didn't answer, at this point it was useless. He punched me in the stomach, knocking the breath out of me. Ouch! He pushed me down to the floor and straddled my waist, picking up a piece of the broken plate and pushing my top up, exposing my stomach. I struggled with him, but he was a lot stronger than me. I stopped struggling as he brought the broken piece down on my skin, he started cutting my stomach, I tried not to move, it caused it to dig in more. I was screaming out in agony.

"God, please! Please stop!" I screamed, he just ignored me, as he always did. He stopped cutting and stood up. 

"Get out of my sight." I tried to stand but it was too painful, so I crawled to the stairs, it took me fifteen minutes to crawl up the stairs and into my room. I closed the door and leaned back against it, catching my breath. I crawled over to my wardrobe, getting my first aid kit out, I found my needle in thread, I cleaned the wound with the special wipes and then got a bit of cloth to bite down on, once my jaw was clamped around it, I started stitching myself up, it would leave a scar that was for sure, it's not like I could go to the hospital. What was I supposed to say, Oh it's just my abusive guardian, don't worry about it! Yeah, that would work. Once i had finished stitching it up I covered it with bandages. 

"Hope! You start your new school tomorrow! YOU BETTER NOT BE LATE!" I sighed, a new school. I hated new schools, it was always the same. The same questions, the same stares and the same rumours. It was just the same damn routine, as soon as someone was close to the truth we'd move on again, it was that simple. I packed my first aid kit away and crawled under the thin sheet I had, I was freezing, it was winter, but it's not like he cared. I set my alarm, thankful he at least gave me that. Tomorrow was a brand new day! Not, it would be the same as this day had been. I'm sure of it.