Abused

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Chloe's POV

I woke up at 6:00am just like every school day. I sat up in bed, very slowly. My whole body ached so badly. I got off my bed and went into my bathroom. I turned the shower on and stepped in. The hot water made my sore muscles feel better. I washed my hair, and got all the tangles out of it. Then I washed my body, and was very careful whenever I washed over a bruise. And I had a lot if them.

I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. I wrapped a towel around me, and walked over the the sink. I brushed through my long, blonde hair, and then got out my makeup.

I put foundation over my face. I had to put on a lot, because no one could the bruises on my face. That would not be good. I applied mascara, lip gloss, and eyeliner.

Once satisfied all the bruises were covered I went in my room to get dressed. I pulled out some purple pants, and a white sweater that had designs on it. I put on my black combat boots, a silver heart necklace, and a bracelet to complete the look.

Now that my hair was dried, I went back into my bathroom, and put my hair into a fishtail, tying it off on the end with a clear elastic. I straightened the bangs that framed my face, to give it a more "messy" type look.

I grabbed my phone off the table, and walked down stairs. Tiptoeing by my dads room, very careful not to wake him. And headed downstairs.

I grabbed a strawberry poptart and stuck it in the toaster. I sat on my phone for a while, went on Instagram and Facebook. Then my poptart popped out of the toaster. I grabbed it out just as I heard my dads bedroom door open. I walked towards the front door, grabbed my backpack, and walked to the bus stop.

That's how my morning always goes. I wake up, get ready, eat, and leave before my dad sees me.

You see, my days all follow a routine. The same, dumb, painful routine.

I get to the bus stop just as the bus is pulling up. I hop on, and take a seat in the middle.

I don't have any friends on my bus. So I just sit alone on my phone, and mumble to the songs that come on. Ten minutes later, we arrived at my school.

I walk through the front doors, down the hall, and up the stairs to second floor. Then I turn right, and walk straight for awhile, until I reach locker 334.

I have a really big school. It's three floors. The first floor has lockers, and the science/math/english/history classrooms. The second floor has more lockers, cooking classroom, music classrooms, drama class, newspaper and yearbook classrooms, and basically any other elective offered at my school. The third floor is my personal favorite floor, because it holds the beloved cafeteria. it also has the gym, and locker room. But I don't take gym this year because I take dance. And that's in the gym.

I love to dance. And not to be cocky or anything, but I'm really good at it. I'm flexible, graceful, and would be a very good ballerina. I'm even on point. but I don't own any actual point shoes. but my school has some that I use when we do ballet. which is only one week in the entire school year.

I always wish I could dance at an actual dance studio. But I can't. My father refuses to pay for it. Because he has other plans on how to spend his money.

I opened my locker after putting in my combination. Right to the 83. Left to 24 . And right to 52.

At my school we had really long lockers. They were eight feet tall, and every locker was side by side. Instead if how our gym lockers are. Those are only three feet tall, and stacked on top of each other.