Take My Scars Away (Urban) (ON HOLD)

Take My Scars Away

Note: Some scenes in this story may be upsetting. The whole story isn't going to have scenes like this. People's pasts will have the word flashback in bold please don't skip the flashbacks or the story won't make sense. There won't be many pasts (flashbacks). Enjoy :)

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Xaya's POV ( Pronounced Zay-ah )

I felt my eyes close as another blow collided with my head. Red blurred my vision as blood dripped across my eyes. When the vicious blows finally stopped, I lay there unable to move because of the damage inflicted upon my body. Only something like this would happen to me. I ran away from my demonic parents only to be beaten within an inch of my life because I didn't want to have sex with some random guy in an alley way and because I wanted my rightfully earned money back which that guy stole from me. My only wish is to have someone to care for me, to protect me, to love me and to take my scars away.

Lying here in a pool of my own blood makes me want to look back on my shit life. The abuse all started 11 years ago, when I was 5. Too young to go through what I went through, way too young. To be honest I don't even know why it started, It just did. My parents started hitting me every week then it became every day. I wish I could go back in time and laugh at my younger self. I thought my parents hit me because I was being naughty, but I soon came to learn that it was because they are sick, demonic, crazy bastards. They literally are reincarnations of satan. The abuse escalated from brutal hits to me being thrown down the stairs, being burned by hot steam and things being thrown at me...like knives for example. The abuse I suffered when I was 5 was nothing compared to what happened by the time I reached 9.

*FLASHBACK*

" COME DOWN HERE YOU WHORE." My mum yelled. Sighing I dragged myself out of my bed or should I say floor since I wasn't allowed the privilege of having a bed. I made my way down the stairs in my rags. Today is my ninth birthday. Hopefully my parents are kind enough to at least get me a candle for my birthday.

" Yes mum? ." I asked, looking at the ground.

" It's your birthday today isn't it?." I whipped my head up in shock and looked her straight in the eyes. I was surprised she remembered but I made the mistake of giving her eye contact. Before I could move, the hot iron she had been using to iron clothes collided with my head. I hit the ground and my dad took the opportunity to kick me in my stomach.

" WHAT DID WE TELL YOU ABOUT GIVING US EYE CONTACT, YOU STUPID BITCH?" My mother yelled. I didn't reply I just pushed my self up and looked back at the floor which now had my blood on it.

" We have the perfect birthday present for you." My mum said, but knowing them it can't be something I should look forward to.

Reaching out a hand, my dad dragged me up the stairs by my hair which had reached shoulder length. I had to cut my thick, soft hair so that it would grow back properly after my parents recent abuse stunt, which by far was the worst thing they have done to me. Whilst I slept on my floor they snuck into my room like the sick bastards they are and set my hair on fire. All I can remember from that night is pain. My dad forced my head down our toilet to put out the fire on my hair which they had caused.

Shaking my head, I cleared that memory from my mind.

" This is your birthday present." My mum said flashing pearly white teeth at me. I looked around and I couldn't see anything because the room was pitch black. As I opened my mouth to ask what I was meant to be receiving, I was thrown onto a table and strapped down with cuffs that were attached to the table.

I started thrashing around in panic and screaming but my dad stuffed a cloth into my mouth and started pouring water through the cloth. It didn't take me long to realise that he was trying to drown me and there was nothing I could do to stop it because my hands are strapped to this table.