8 Second Ride COMPLETED

Chapter 7

May 3, 2012 

Austin, Texas

I struggle to open my eyes. Groaning a bit as I try to move. It's then I realize, I'm laying on the hardwood floor. All the memories of last night come rushing back to me in an instant. Ryan dropping me off, then my dad waiting for me outside the bathroom door.

Shit.

It happened again. I tiredly open my eyes and get up on my feet slowly, wincing when I move the wrong way. My ribs feel like they are on fire. Holding the wall for support as I steadily walk in the bathroom.

My eye is swollen as well as my cheek. A dark purple circle has formed on he skin around my eye and it is completely blood shot. He managed to bust a blood vessel. 

He must have hit me fucking harder than normal. I am going to have to use some serious make up to cover the bruises this time.

What am I going to do about my eye? I panic. I cannot call off of work. Letting out a painful sigh I guess I will just have to make up some excuse. I have become very good at it from doing it on a weekly basis.

How can my own father do this to me?  I think to myself as I stare into the mirror. Hollow green eyes stare back at me. One of these days, there is going to be nothing left in them. No spark of hope, no sadness, no more fight. Nothing but emptiness.

Taking off my shirt, I begin to inspect the damage, wincing as I bite my tongue. Trying not to scream out in agony. Breathing even hurts, let alone moving my arms in any way. The whole left side of my torso and back have bruises larger than the size of my hand. This is going to kill me to do everything today.

It's already four in the morning and I have to be at the Maggie's Diner by six. Hopefully two hours gives me enough time to get ready. 

Before taking a shower, I put on a old t-shirt and jeans run outside to feed the animals. Ten beef cows, two dozen chickens, five horses, two dogs, and one cat later, I am finished. Mucking the stalls will have to wait until later, and I just hope I don't get in trouble for not doing it now.

I vigorously apply make-up to my bruised face after I do my hair. Since I have had so much practice, the bruise is practically invisible to the naked eye. I sometimes wonder if people ever really notice what happens to me. If they see the painful marks that cover my skin. Nobody ever says a word. All assuming my lies are true and farm life being the actual cause of everything. 

I sigh to myself and put on a plain black t-shirt that hugs my skin, making my DD size chest more noticeable. I don't do baggy shirts, only my rodeo shirts and sleeping shirts are baggy.

I pull up my Levi's and tuck in my black shirt before buttoning them and putting on my belt. They make my behind look big, in my opinion. Maggie doesn't like me wearing my wranglers for some odd reason unknown to me. I do believe it is because my rear end earns us more tips. She constantly tells me to sway my hips back and forth while I work. Telling me to walk like a runway model as I clear tables. It must work because she tells me to do it everyday.

Lastly, I slip on my cowboy boots, grab my hat, wallet, keys, and head out the front door. My dad  snoring away on the couch and my mother was hiding in their bedroom. I never see her come out much unless she knows my dad is out or asleep.

[*]

One more hour left of my shift. The ache in my feet  and body almost pleading with me for the shift to end. 

I huff as I stare at the clock above the register. The last hour always goes by so slow.  No matter how much work you have to do the seconds seem like they merely tick by.