The Letter

Chapter 1- The Letter

Pain.

That's the first thing my mind registers. The pain is always the worst of it all. Pain shoots throughout my body as I lay on the kitchen floor. Blow after blow my father keeps on kicking and hitting me. I lay on the floor letting the pain fill me rather than the hate and anger that I have towards my father. I have grown accustomed to the hard cold kitchen floor since I have been in this position for so many years now.

It all started when my father would hit my mom, at first it was simple slaps; then it grew to more. He would leave her bruises and broken ribs. I remember the day perfectly, I was five years old. I walked into the kitchen to find my father hitting my mom again, but this time I had promised I wouldn't let him hurt her anymore. I stepped in front of my mom thinking my dad would never hurt me. I always believed he loved me and wouldn't touch a hair.

I was wrong. I stood in front of her and he started hitting me. That was how it began. He stopped abusing my mother and started hitting me instead. This continued for years. He never hurt my mother again, he hurt me instead. My mother always looked the other way, not wanting to help me in any way. I guess she thought it was better me than her.

I was the only child of this broken family. I hated my life an if it weren't for my best friend Dominic I would have probably ran away from home years ago. Dominic was the only person who actually knew about the abuse. I made him promise to never tell anyone. He had tried many times to convince me to report him but I always put sense into him and reminded him that my father was a lawyer.

So, here I lay on the kitchen floor taking all the anger and hate my father has towards me. I don't even know why he does it. He comes home drunk and I know it is time for him to hit his living punching bag, me. No one would ever think that my father was that type of guy because he is a well and known respected lawyer. Nobody had a reason to think he was the abusive type. This house hasn't been my home in so many years, and I don't know how much longer I can take it.

My body screamed in pain. My father had walked away probably to keep on drinking. I slowly got up from the floor. I winced as I took a step; my side was hurting really bad. My lip was bleeding and my head was throbbing. I took slow and cautious steps to my room. The pain grew with each step I took up the stairs. I could hear the voice in my head saying how unworthy I was, that I should fight back. I knew better not to; I had tried a few years back but he had over powered me and I came out hurt worse than ever. I knew never to fight him back.

I sat down on my bed taking slow and deep breaths, trying to fight the tears from coming out. I had to be strong; I couldn't let anyone see my crying. I didn't want to show anyone my weak side. I failed in trying to keep them back and I felt a cold tear roll down my check. I heard a knock on my door. I quickly wiped away my tear.

My mother came in and looked at me. She quickly looked down towards the floor; she had stopped making eye contact to me a few years back. I guess the guilt was getting to her, yet she never did a thing to stop him.

"Victoria, dinner is ready" She said in a small voice.

"I'm not hungry" I said, looking out the window instead of looking at her.

"You should eat something, honey." She said, still not daring to look at me.