Finding Olivia

Chapter 15

I woke up, and the first thing I did, was look through the photos again. Unfortunately, the photos didn't reveal much about Derek. After all, they were only photos. They couldn't tell me what his voice sounded like, or his favorite color, or his hobbies.

I did notice that a lot of them were taken outside and I wondered if Derek—my dad—enjoyed being outside like I did.

I'd always rather be outside, soaking in the sun, than stuck indoors.

A banging on my door startled me.

I glanced at my bedroom clock.

It was nine o' clock in the morning; I should've been up two hours ago, to avoid this wrath.

"Olivia Owens! Open this door right now! You know you're not allowed to close your bedroom door!" My dad's-er, Aaron's-voice bellowed throughout the house.

I hopped up from my bed like it was made of hot coals, and bound across the room in two large steps, swinging the door open.

"You may sleep in late at that school of yours but that's not allowed in my house!" He bellowed.

"I'm sorry," I reached up, pushing my ratty hair from eyes.

"What's this?" He hissed, his large meaty hand capturing my arm. He gripped it tightly and I cried out as he held it up for inspection. Cold eyes glared at me. "What is this on your arm?"

Oh, no.

I swallowed.

When I didn't answer right away, his grip tightened.

"What is it Olivia?!" He shook me roughly, hard enough that my teeth clanked together.

"It's a tattoo," I cried.

His fingers dug painfully into my arm. His face reddened as his teeth clamped together. It felt as if he held me like that, for minutes, but the logical part of my mind knew that wasn't true. My adrenaline had already clicked in.

He released me roughly and I fell, sliding across the hardwood floor, where my head smacked into the wall. I reached up and fingered the tender part of my skull, half expecting there to be blood.

He glared down at me, and I flinched, waiting for him to strike.

My breath came out in ragged gasps, like I couldn't get enough oxygen.

"You're nothing but trouble," he glared at me with eyes that were anything but human. He was a monster. "Your mother should've had you taken care of."

Surprising words from a man who preached about the sins of abortion.

He stood there, seething, his chest rising and falling as his hands flexed at his sides.

For some reason, he looked around my room, and his eyes landed on the pictures on my bed.

"No," he growled softly. "No!" He screamed, storming over to my bed, reaching for the pictures.

I knew that he was going to ruin the pictures, the only thing I had tying me to a man I had only learned about yesterday, and that spurned me into action.

Those pictures were the key to a life I knew nothing about and I wasn't about to give it up.

With energy I didn't know I possessed, I stood.

He picked one of the pictures up, and crumpled it into his hand, yelling unintelligibly.

I jumped on his back, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, as he reached for another picture.