~ Chapter 6: He Has Not! ~

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The first thing that happened when we arrived home was that I got fussed at big time by my father. Not even moments after he finished fussing at how stupid and how I shouldn't have ever been born I'm getting slapped, punched, and kicked. Considering I'm already bruised up from PE, the abuse made me feel even worse. I was glad when my father knocked me out so hard that I fell into a cloud of darkness. At least here I couldn't feel the pain.

I woke up in the same position I was in when he knocked me out. Sprawled across the living room floor every one of my limbs was in a different direction. Pushing past the pain I sat up but quickly laid back down as dizziness took over and my vision seemed to blur a bit. After a few moments of clearing my head, I slowly got up off the ground and made my way upstairs to my room, so I could clean myself up.

Every time I moved pain shot through my body, but I tried my best to ignore it. Once I reached my room I rushed in not wanting to be caught meandering in the hallway any longer than I had too. I took a few deep breaths before I headed over to my bathroom. On the way I checked the clock and it read ten thirty pm. So, I had been knocked out for a good while. I thought.

Quickly, I cleaned any cuts and tended any bruises that may have accumulated on my body during my beating. When I was done cleaning myself up, I brushed my hair and tied it up in a bun to keep it out of my face. I wash the makeup off my face and brushed my teeth before I turned the light out and headed towards the comfort of my bed.

I glanced towards my closet debating whether I should change clothes. I blinked a few times and let a yawn escape my mouth. That debate ended quickly because the next thing I knew I was crawling up into my bed and pulling the covers over my cold body. Snuggling in between the sheets I turned my mind off and tried to get some sleep. After all, sleep is really the only time I can escape the torture theses days.

~0-o-0~

My eyes flew open and I gripped my bedsheets tightly afraid of where I was. Blinking a couple of times, I let go of the sheets realizing that I've woken up. "It was just a dream," I whispered to no one. "Not a dream, a nightmare." I let out a shaky breath of air before I pushed the blanket back and let my feet touch the cold floor.

Light poured into my room from the window indicating it was morning and that I needed to get ready for school. I scurried over to my closest and dug for something appropriate to wear but nothing that fit my skin too tight. I finally settled on a long sleeve loose-fitting white shirt, a pair of jeans, and my old tattered up black converse. I also grabbed a black jean jacket for extra protection. Jackets are like my shield, they protect me but also protect others from knowing what happens to a girl like me.

A girl who got her mother killed.

I applied makeup where it needed to be, mainly covering any visible bruises. Once I was done I checked the clock and saw that it said seven. My eyes grew wide before I rushed downstairs and into the kitchen. Any minute I knew Mack and father would be up and downstairs waiting for breakfast to be served.

I almost tripped down the stairs as I rushed down them. Heading into the kitchen I grabbed a large pot and filled it with hot water before added some oatmeal into the pot. I stirred it the best I could before I heard the creak of the steps indicating that they were coming downstairs.

Rushing, I placed equal amounts of oatmeal into their bowls and set it on the table. I noticed my bag was sitting on the floor against the door. I'm guessing father made Mack grab it before he came and got me.

I scooped up my bag and swung the door open. I slammed the door shut and rushed down the porch steps onto the sidewalk. I was not staying in the house with them for breakfast. No way, not ever again. Every step I took, pain shot up my legs, but I did my best to ignore it. The pain was worth not being their them, even if it hurt like being shot a million times.

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