I was curled up under a tree in the park. It was late at night, and pouring ran. Tears fell down my cheeks, mixing with the rain. I heard someone walk over to me, the leaves crunching under their feet. I flinched and curled up tighter.
"Ms. Munroe?" I recognized the voice to be the one of my English teacher, Mr. Carlile.
I looked up at him, my face covered in fresh, purple bruises and cuts.
"Oh god..." He breathed out, scooping me up.
I flinched when he picked me up and laid there limply as he carried me to his car. I didn't know where he was taking me, or what he was doing. I was in so much pain that I couldn't speak.
At his car, he laid me in the backseat and drove me somewhere. I tried to watch out the window, but quickly got dizzy at the head movement.
He parked the car and got me out, carrying me inside.
"Jace!" He called, not letting me go.
I heard footsteps come down the stairs as I squeezed my eyes shut. The boy, Jace, gasped at the sight of me.
"What happened, dad?" He asked, quickly taking me from his father.
He held me in his muscular arms, taking me to another room of the house. I opened my eyes slightly when he laid me on the oak table in their kitchen. I watched as he grabbed some antiseptics, and started to clean the wounds on my face. I wanted to tell him there was more covering the rest of body, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything.
He finished cleaning my face and looked down at me.
"What happened?" He asked softly, his voice full of concern.
I shook my head and tried to sit up on the table. He reached out and helped me up, brushing a strand of my wet, auburn hair out of my face.
"I'll take you to the guest room, you can stay here tonight."
I nodded and followed him upstairs, to the guest room. He left for a couple minutes and came back with a towel, a pair of sweats and a shirt for me.
"You can shower and then go to sleep."
I took the stuff from him and smiled weakly, "Thank you," I whispered.
He left me alone and I went to the bathroom. I shut the door and undressed myself. I looked hard into the mirror. My pale body was covered in cuts, scars and bruises, my ribs easily countable, my hip bones looking as if they were trying to break through the skin. I was so thin, it scared most people, but it was normal for me.
I turned on the shower and got in. I showered for a good fifteen minutes before shutting off the water. I got out, dried myself and put Jace's clothes on. They hung off me like a bag, but I didn't care. They were dry clothes, and they were letting me stay here for the night.
I went back to the bedroom and laid down. I fell asleep almost instantly, only to be haunted by the events of today.
'It was early in the afternoon. I walked into the house and found my dad, passed out drunk on the couch. The man was always drunk, no matter what time of day.
I woke him gently, the stench of the alcohol spilling out of his pores. He shot up from the couch, his eyes filling with anger.
I stepped back and watched him stumble towards me. He called me names, and pushed me up against the wall.
"What are you doing home?!" He slurred angrily.
"N-not feeling good..." I mumbled, scared.
A smirk washed across his withered face, "I'll make you feel good, whore."
He pinned my arms above my head with one hand, and took off my pants with the other. He slid a hand into my thong before pulling it down slowly. He took of his pants and boxers. Before I knew it, he was slamming his manhood into me. Every time I made a sound, begging him to stop, he hit me. When he finished and forced me to orgasm, he pulled out.
"Such a good little slut." He praised.'
I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming and crying.
