Unbroken [Book One] COMPLETED

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The eleven-year-old was shoved up against the wall. She tried to squirm out of her father's grip, but in his drunken state, she was helpless. She cried out as her head got lifted up, then slammed back against the wall a good three times. Her pink short sleeve shirt was stained crimson, some fresh, others with age set into them.

Then a fist was connected to her red cheek. Another. And another. And another. And another. The menacing hands that gripped her shoulders moments ago let go, letting the young one slowly slide down the wall.

Her father had caught her in the dark in her room, leaning slightly out the window, talking to her mother. Her dead mother. Her mother's ashes, blown away in the wind. Yeah, it may have been an one way conversation, but she enjoyed moments like these.

She remembered the haunting look her father gave her. "Never think about your mother, never!" He slammed her door shut and stomped down the stairs, they creaked more than they would've originally.

Hazel couldn't move. Her whole body stung. She started crying when her father whipped her back with his belt. No matter how hard she willed herself to stop the tears, they kept flowing.

She gasped for breaths, clawing at her throat, thinking frantic words over and over again. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. Another strangled cry escaped her as she ran to the bathroom inside her room, throwing herself to the toilet. Unexpectedly, her dinner, a couple slices of bread, came up. Her body stung as she forced herself to move.

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. There was always that rising question that she shoved back into the endless void of questions that she refused to either think about or answer.

Why don't you run away?

She didn't know. The girl had, plenty of times, cried herself to sleep, terrifying images of her dad filled the dark abyss as she blinked. But when she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of running away and into your classic endless tumbling hills with green grass slightly over growing, the green shards almost always blowing in the wind. In her dreams, her lover would be beside her, dashing with her, afraid that if he doesn't keep up with her, he will be forgotten. But he never is.

Blue, white, red, pink and purple flowers would constantly be growing, making the scene even more perfect. There was always the sunset in the background, the sky glimmering, morphing colors.

But the thing that made the scene complete was the fact that the couple was happy. It was Paradise. Happy. Hazel had yearned all of her years to feel the sensation of happiness, joy, love. To feel complete with her life, but nothing satisfied her needs. Mostly because of the fact that she didn't have a friend. And that was all she wanted.

Hazel fell asleep that night, crying herself to sleep. But she didn't dream about the rolling hills or the flowers or the subset or of her lover. No, she dreamed those seven words. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. That's why seven was her favorite number. Those words were her mantra. She repeated and repeated them to herself. It somehow calmed her down, since she didn't have anything else to hang onto as an anchor.

+

She woke up alarmed the next morning. There was a shrill alarm that kept going off, rattling through her ears, making her aware of everything. What's going on? She threw off the thin blanket that covered her, even though it was winter. She was short, but could still manage to see through the window in her bedroom. Her bedroom was on the second floor of the house, her father's room was on the first floor.