Her Guardian Angel (Under Editing)

Chapter 1

When I walked into the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My eyes were puffy and I had dried tears down my cheeks, not to mention my horrible bed hair.

Rubbing my eyes and letting out a small yawn, I went to the shower and turned it on, waiting for the water warm up before I undressed and stepped inside. The warm water hit my body and I shampooed and conditioned my long dirty-blonde hair.

I thought back to the dream I had the night before. Or was it a memory?

I had long but forgotten the sad days of my childhood. But the times weren't always like that. They weren't always filled with screaming and crying children and pain. No, those times used to cheerful ones. Times filled with joy.

Before my parents split--when they were still happy, I mean--we had breakfast every morning. We sat together and would laugh and something SpongeBob SquarePants said on TV.

We were small, my brother and I. He only being a year younger than I was, we got along so well. He was my silly, innocent, little brother. And I was his big sister and I needed to protect him. But I didn't; couldn't. I was too weak. Too young. If only...

I turned the water off, and got out of the shower. I dried my body quickly, effacing the melancholy memories of before and wrapped my hair in the towel.

I looked at my self in the mirror, and at old scars covering my body. From my dad's last beatings.

Some scars were long and ridged, the deeper ones cause by broken bottles or plates. Others were small and pale, caused by being punched or kicked. My dad often wears a ring on his right hand, and I have many scars from the sharp edges.

I pulled my gaze away from my body and looked into my dull, blue eyes, wishing that they had more life to them; more happiness.

It made me sad, living this way, but I can't do anything about it. There's no one I can turn to for help. It's just me...

I look at the clock it reads 5:45am. I need to hurry if I am gonna get to school before my dad wakes up and decides I need an early morning beating. He did that often.

I added a quick layer of mascara on my long eyelashes. And put my hair in a side braid. I went into my closest and dressed in my normal clothes: ripped skinny jeans, a plain white t-shirt tucked in, a red flannel around my waste, and to top it off, white converse and a black beanie.

I grabbed my bag and quietly made my way down the stairs, skipping the seventh one because it creaks.

I look inside the fridge at it's contents: beer, more beer, spoiled milk, old cheese, and a rotten tomato.

My stupid stomach growls at this, which made me angry. We never have food. Why do I even bother to check? I sigh and close the fridge. Maybe I can pick something up for just me to eat..

It was a nice thought.

I walk towards the door, ready to leave for school, when a noise stops me mid-way. I turn around slowly, and see my dad standing at his door, leaning against the frame. Oh no.

I'm 5.3 and pretty short for a 17 year old. My dad, on the other hand, is huge compared to me. He's about 6.5 and is muscular for his age. Unlike me, weak, skinny, and worthless.

He's just standing there. Looking at me, and I him.

"Where are you going!?" He screams and I jump, letting out a small sequel.

It was so quiet just a second ago. And his loud voice echos the whole house, causing my ears to ring.

"T-T-To s-school" I say, mentally face-palming myself for stuttering. I gritted my teeth.

I know I shouldn't be scared of him. Not to let him have the satisfaction from setting fear into my eyes, but I can't help it. I suppose if I were brave, I would be glaring at him, or perhaps I would roll my eyes and stomp away. Things a normal teenager would do to their normal parents. But sadly, that would never happen.

"Aren't you forgetting something!?" He says, and I flinch, my attention wavering. I look down. "Look in the eye when I'm talking to you!" I immediately snap my head back up to him, my hands shaking.

I can tell he's been drinking. He's usually hungover at this hour... This will not end well. It couldn't.  His nature to be kind was dead even before mom left.

He took a step forward, and an evil smile crept it's way on his lips, along with and crazed psychopathic look in his eyes. They looked like they belonged there. Like his face never made another expression besides that one.

I took a step back, fight or flight mode finally setting in.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! I have to get outta here. Now!

He took another step forward and we were only about two feet apart now. I caught my breath, as if somehow I could just play dead and he would go away. Just as I was about to turn and make a run for it, away from this crazed animal, away from my own flesh and blood, he grabbed my wrist.

And that's when the pain began.

(A/N)

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Until we meet again, my disfunctional teens.