Miss Me; When I'm Gone (editing)

PROLOGUE (Blair)

OKAY SO I AM CURRENTLY WRITING A NEW BOOK! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT! AND LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS. IT WILL BE MUCH APPRECIATED. AND I HOPE IT IS WAY MORE COMPLEX AND INTERESTING THAN MY PREVIOUS STORIES!! ANYWAY ENJOY MY LOVELIES.
ALL OF MY WORK IS PURELY FICTIONAL. THIS MAY BE SIMILAR TO OTHER STORIES, BUT THAT AGAIN IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL. AGAIN THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION SO I WRITE WHAT I WANT TO HAPPEN.

Prologue

Blair

"Come here, girl!"

My stepfather's voice bellowed throughout the house. Instantly, my gut twisted. The sick knot that came from being near Jim and knowing what he would do to me was a constant companion. I stood up slowly from my bed and put the book I was reading-or trying to read- down carefully. My mother wasn't home from work yet. She was supposed to be home by now. I shouldn't have come back from the library so early. A man and his young daughter had come up to me while I was looking through the children's picture books. He'd start talking to me and asking my name. He'd wanted to know of I was getting a book for my little sister. The embarrassment that came with that question reminded me of my stupidity as always.

"Girl!"

My stepfather roared. He was angry now. My eyes stung with unshed tears. If he would only just beat me like he used to. back when I was younger and I brought home poor grades in school. If he would just call me names and tell me how worthless I was... But he wouldn't. Once I had wished more than anything that he would atop hitting me. I hated the belt, and the welts he left on my legs and bottom made it hard to sit down.

Then one day, he stopped. And I instantly wished he'd go back to hitting me. the bite from the belt was better than this. Anything was better than this. Even death.

I opened my bedroom door and took a deep breath, reminding myself that I would survive whatever he did. I was saving my money from the housecleaning jobs I had, and I would be leaving here soon. My mother would be glad I was gone. She had hated me for years. I was a burden on her.

I tugged my shirt down and tucked it into the shorts I was wearing. Then I pulled the shorts down so they were covering more of my legs. It was pointless, really. I had long legs that were hard to cover up. There were never any shorts at the thrift store long enough.

It was only an hour before my mother got home. He wouldn't do anything that she could walk in on. Even if she did, I wondered if she would accuse me and say it was my fault. She had already blamed me for the way my body had changed four years ago.

My breasts had grown too large, and she said I needed to stop eating because my ass was fat. I had tried not eating, but it hadn't helped my bottom.y stomach had flattened out, and it had only made my chest look larger. She hated that. So I started eating again, but my stomach pudge never returned.

One night, when I had walked into the living room in a pair of cut off sweatpants and a T-shirt to get some milk before I went to bed, she slapped me and told me I looked like a whore who had nothing but her looks to get her anywhere in life.

Now I stepped into the living room to see Ted, my stepfather, sitting in his recliner with his eyes trained on the television with a beer in his hand. He had come back from work early. His gaze swung to me and slowly trailed up my body, making me shiver with disgust.What I wouldn't give to be smart and flat chested. If my legs were short and fat, then my life would be perfect. My face wasn't what attracted Ted. It was average enough. I hated my body. I hated it so much. Nausea crept up, and my heart raced as I fought back the tears. He loved it when I cried. It made him worse. I wouldn't cry. No. Not in front of him.

"Come sit in my lap," he ordered.

I couldn't do it. I had been able to avoid him for weeks by staying away from the house as much ad possible. The horror of having his hands up my shirt or in my pants again was too much. I'd rather he killed me. Anything but this.

When I didn't move, his face twisted into an evil sneer.

"Get your stupid slutty ass over here, and sit in my goddamn lap!"

I closed my eyes,because the tears were coming. I had to stop them. If he'd just hit me again, I'd take it. I just couldn't stand him touching me. I hated the sounds he made and the things he said. It was a never-ending nightmare.

Every second I stayed back was a second closer to my mother getting home. When she was here, he called me names, but never touched me. She might wish I didn't exist, but she was my only salvation from this.

"Go ahead and cry, I like it," he said, sneering.

His chair creaked and then I heard the footrest slam down. I snapped my eyes open to see him standing up. Not good. If I ran, I wouldn't make it past him. The only other option was the backyard, but his pit bull was out there. It had bitten me three years ago, and I had needed stitched, but he hasn't let me go to the doctor. He'd told me to wrap it up; he wasn't putting his dog down over my stupid ass.

I had an ugly scar on my hip from the dog's teeth. I'd never gone into the backyard again. Bit watching him walk towards me, I wondered if being eaten by his dog wasn't better than this. It was a means to an end; death. Which didn't sound so bad. Just before he reached me ,I decided that whatever his dog would do to me was better than this.

So I ran. He cackled with laughter behind me, but I didn't let it slow me down. He didn't think I'd go out the back door. How wrong he was. I would face he dogs of hell to get away from him.

But the door was bolted. I needed to unbolt it. No. No. His hands grabbed my waist and pulled me back to fell his hardness pressing against me. The sour taste of vomit burned at the back of my throat as I jerked away from him.

"No!" I yelled.

His hands moved around and grabbed my breasts and squeezed painfully.

"Stupid whore. This is all you're good for. Couldn't even graduate from highschool because you were too damn stupid. But this body, this body is meant to make men happy. Accept that, bitch."

The tears ran down my face. I hadn't been able to stop them. He knew the words to hurt me.

" No!" I cried out again, but this time the pain was there in my voice. it cracked.

"Fight me Blair. I like it when you fight me," he hissed in my ear.

How could my mother stay married to this man? Was my father worse than this? She'd never married him. She never told me about him. I didn't even know his name. But no one could be worse than this awful man. I couldn't do this gain. I was done being scared. Either he would beat me until he killed me, or he would kick me out. I had feared both for so long.

My mother had told me once that all men would do in this world was think about sex when they looked at me. I would be used by men my whole life. She was always telling me to leave.

Today I was ready. I only had eight hundred and fifty five dollars saved up, but I could get a bus ticket to the other side of the country and get a job. If I got out of this house alive, that what I was doing. Ted's hands slipped down the front of my shorts, and I bucked against him, screaming. I didn't want his hand down there.
"Let me go!" I yelled, loudly enough for the neighbours to hear.

He pulled his hand out and jerked me around by my arm so hard it popped. Then he slammed me against the door. His hand punched my face with a loud crack. My vision blurred and I felt my knees go weak.
"Shut up, bitch, and take it." His hands grabbed my shirt and jerked it up, then tugged my bra down. I sobbed, because I couldn't stop the horror. It was coming and I couldn't stop him.

"Get away from my husband, you whore, and leave my house! I don't ever want to see your face again!"

My mother's voice stopped Ted, and he moved his hands off my breasts. I jerked my shirt back down. My face was burning from the punch, and I tasted blood on my lip as the stinging cut under my tongue began to swell.

"Out, you stupid, good-for-nothing whore!" my mother screamed.

This moment changed everything.