Living A Lie

Chapter I

"JENNA!" I trembled as I heard my father's voice from my room. His voice sounded intoxicated, and I still hadn't recovered from his last rounds of beating me. "GET YOUR SORRY EXCUSE OF A HIDE DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" He screamed, and I had no choice but to open the door of my small attic room and plod down the stairs, my legs shaking with every step I took. At the bottom of the stairs stood my father, his eyes glazed over and the smell of liquor and cigarettes on his breath.

Pain was the only thing that registered for the next half hour.

His hand reeled back again and again, hitting various places on my full frame, and soon I found myself lying on the floor, gasping for breath through tears. Swift kicks to my sides were applied as well, and black spots began to crowd my vision by the time he had finished, and he lumbered off to drink some more.

I pried myself off the floor, tears streaming down my face, and I ran up into my room, collapsing to the floor as I pulled my thoughts together. No one knew about my father's abuse; I didn't want to burden them with it, knowing my father would not only come after me, but them also. Pulling my laptop up onto my lap, I logged on to my interface and saw the numerous messages my best friend, Tiffany, had left me.

Tiffster:

Wassup

Tiffster:

Jenna?

This was the normal time I was on, but my father had come home early.

Tiffster:

Jenna, answer me or I'm coming over there myself.

The text was sent five minutes ago, and I knew that she couldn't do that.

Jbear45:

Hey Tiff. Wassup?

I typed, my sore fingers racing across the keys.

Tiffster:

Nm. Y didn't u respond?

I stared at the text on my screen for a long time, knowing the truth wasn't an option.

Jbear45:

Sorry I wuz busy ;)

Tiffster:

O. Doin wat

Jbear45:

Hmwrk. O.o

There was a little popup at the bottom of the screen telling me Tiffany had logged off, which made me sigh with relief. I just wanted to sleep, to forget all that had happened, but my sore joints and bruises weren't letting me. Every deep breath I took sent shocks of pain reeling through my body, and my head throbbed. I shut the laptop lid, and went into the small bathroom in the corner in the room, locking the door as I went in. The bathroom was no larger than a closet, with a toilet squeezed up against the sink and the shower on the other side. I slid out of my clothes and opened the shower door, twisting the knob until I felt warm water beat down on my bruised back. I felt a sting on my shoulder where his nails had apparently pierced the skin, but I ignored the sharp, tingling feeling and let the tears come. I wanted this to end, I wanted my family to be like it was before my mom and brother died in a car crash, before my dad got drunk. Life had been so simple then, painless, even.

Getting out of the shower, I pulled on some pants and a tank top, brushed my tangled brown hair, then got into my bed, trying to ignore the aching joints and pains from his beating. I'd just tell everybody I was playing football or something, and they wouldn't raise any questions.