Pinky Promise?

1

God life was hell. Funny, it seems, how people can believe in god when all these bad things happen on Earth. I for one, do not believe in God, because if he was real, my story would have ended very differently, or would have started very differently. I don't care if you do believe in God, by all means do, but I don't.

But because god does not exist, at least not in the world I'm in, my story starts like this...

I'm not sure what I did in another life to deserve this, but Jesus, I must have killed a lot of people, maybe I was a terrorist or something. A rapist perhaps? Whatever it was, it would have been horrible, because someone who was a good person shouldn't have the life I have now.

I sit up in bed, the creak echoing around the silent room. Clearing my head from the thought of my past life, and look toward my clock on the bedside table.

5:00 am, perfect timing.

I roll to my side and sit up, my feet hitting the cold floor, the ache in my ribs still there from last night. I walk to my joining bathroom, turning on the light, and walking straight to my shower, turning it on.

Probably sound spoilt, with the adjoining bathroom, but I only have it so they don't have to look at me for longer than the absolutely necessary. I step under the warm water, and scrub myself clean, washing away my thoughts, and the dried tears on my face.

Cinderella, that's what the step monster had nick named me when my father passed, I had laughed with her then, not knowing my life would turn into the fairy tale. But much worse was my life compared to Cinderella's, I was not made to do chores, because I wasn't allowed home until they were in bed, at around 8:30, so they wouldn't have to 'deal with me', but Silvia (the step mother) almost always waited till I got home, to then yell at me in her drunken state, blaming my fathers death on me, and hitting me until she got too tired, and then retiring her abuse to her room.

Silvia has one daughter, Olive, who is the same age as me. Olive is often worse than her mother, resorting to bats to hit me and not her feet or hands, I guess you could say like mother like daughter.

Sometimes I just don't bother going home, instead I stay on a park bench until the next day.

I turn the water off, and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me drying myself off. I can see myself in the mirror, and can see the yellow purple bruises on my arms, form Silvia's hands holding me as she screams at my face. Not wanting to even look at what my ribs must be like, I walk out of the bathroom.

I slip into my jeans, a white shirt and a big jumper, hiding my bruises from the world. I sigh, happy that she at least didn't touch my face this time, that's always harder to cover up.

I open my window, the cold air filling the room up, and I slip out, my shoes clad feet touching the grass, wet form the early morning dew.

I shut the window behind me, making sure that I don't make it slam, not wanting to wake the monsters from their beauty sleep, god knows they need it.

I pull the hood of my jumper up, and start the small trek to school.

The morning air was crisp and cloudy. Making me shiver in my slightly wet shoes, the sky rumbled over head, and I swear, quickening my pace trying to get to school before the rain started to pour on me.

I make it half way there and then it started to rain, big fat drops pummelling towards me soaking me is seconds. I start to run, and then I can see the schools gates, and I sprint to the doors stumbling into the corridor. My ribs ach with every step, but I push it out of my mind and keep running.