He's That Thug

♥ Chapter One ♥ [Picture of Roxanne]

"What the fuck did I tell you?" Hit. "Why can't you just fucking listen when I tell you to fucking do something?!" Smack.

I let out a painful cry as I felt another strike to my face. I should be use to this. Sixteen years should be enough time for me to be numb to the painful blows. Sixteen years should be enough time for me to stop crying out ans screaming for him to stop. But it's not. I'm still feeling the pain. I'm still screaming and crying. I'm still wishing for my mom to be here, holding me. I'm sixteen years old. I shouldn't have to deal with this. I shouldn't have to go home and pray that my father's passed out in his bedroom.

"I'm sorry!" I yell, using my arms to block his hand. I lay on the cold tile, my lip busted and my wrists bruised up. "I'm sorry!" 

Apparently, he was either sick of staring at my face orery thirtsty because after one more kick to the side, he grabbed another beer from the fridge and stumbled out the kitchen. "Clean up the fucking kitchen."

I waited until I heard his bedroom door slam shut upstairs before I stood up. My whole body felt sore. My sides ached, my head hurt, my face stung...I was in so much pain. I walked towards the fridge and gabbed an ice pack. I pulled up the side of my shirt and saw a dark bruise forming on my side. I pressed the ice pack to my side and hissed at the coldness and pain. 

TImes like this, I wished for my mother to be alive. I wished for her to come and tell me everything was okay. I never got to know my mom. I have no idea what she was like or what kind of person she use to be. When I was younger, I use to invent my own personal version of her. She would have dark hair like mine and warm brown eyes. SHe would have soft facial features, She would be so caring and loving. She would love me. I think at the time that was all I really wanted. Love.

I looked around the kitchen. Barley even messy. A few dishes in the sink, maybe, and yeah, the counter needed to be wiped down, but other than that, it was basically spotless. WHy the fuck does he always have to overreact? WHy the fuck does he blame me for his troubles? My mom's dead, and he blames me. He beats me. Isn't knowing that my mom being dead is my fault enough? Can't he see that I hurt too?

He doesn't care. He never did. I was use to that now. I mean, I should be. That doesn't make it easy. I slowly walked towards the sink, slightly limping. I placed the icepack on the counter so I can wash the dishes and began cleaning. 

Ten minutes later I was finished. I took my phone out my pocket and called my best friend. She was the one person I could talk to. She doesn't know about my dad beating me, because I know if I tell her, she'd go and get the cops on him and shit. As much as I can't stand him, as much as I hate him sometimes, I don't want him getting locked up or some shit. Besides, that's too much drama and questioning for me.

"Hey, Rocks, what's up?" Symone's light voice came through the phone.

I sighed. "Nothing. I'm just tired. Sorry I missed school. I had to..." I trailed of, comign up with an excuse, "do something for my dad."

"Ohh, it's okay. You missed a lot though. THere's this new boy in our school, and he is so fucking sexy! OhmiGod, I was sweatin' his shit!"

I laughed. 

"I'm so dead ass! His name is Anthony. Some people were saying he was in a gang." Symone rambled on and on about the new boy. 

"A gang?" I rolled m eyes. "Typical. THat's all the niggas we have here anyway. Gangs and shit."

Symone sucked her teeth and paused. "Hold on, my mom's calling me."

While I waited, I  decided to start changing and get ready for bed. These jeans were making me hot. I trudged up the steps and walked into my bedroom. I pulled off my jeans and pulled on some short pajama shorts and then changed into a bandeu. It was too hot for a shirt, in my opinion.

FInally, Symone came back to the phone. "Yo, Rocks, guess what?"

"Hm?"

"So I heard that Lonnie and Max broke up. You think you could talk to him about me?"

"What? You still sweatin' that nigga?" When she stayed silent, I shook my head. "Yeah, I'll talk to him, but I'm not making to type of promises. If they just broke up, I doubt he'd get over her so quick--"

"Yeah, yeah, just talk to him, cool?"

"Don't cut me off," I snapped. I hated when she did that shit. She hated it too. "I don't like that shit. I'll talk to him."

"You love me." She was probably cheesin mad hard right now. "Okay, well my brother's here."

"He's back?"

"Yup. Nigga came back last night talking bout some new chick he likes. I don't know. Ma's making dinner so I gotta. You'll be in school tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, I will."

"Aight. Dueces, bitch."

"Mhm,"

We ended the call and I climbed into my bed. School tomorrow. Sigh.