Broken (Harry Styles)

Chapter 3

Chapter three

I try to block everything out, to just space out in the hope that I wont feel anything, but the reality of the situation is that I feel everything. Absolutely everything.

My father is filled up with rage and it's all directed at me. For what reason? I have no idea. At most times his abuse towards me is linked with him being sad about the loss he suffered when losing my mother but at other times I think he just needs to have an outlet and sadly I am that person he takes it out on.

I try to use my hands as a shield against his boots but nothing is working. He kicks me hard in the ribs and I feel like I might vomit after the fourth kick but nothing comes out just my air deprived sobs.

He pulls my head up by my hair and slaps me so hard I go flying to the other side of my bedroom. I can taste blood on my lip.

"Please daddy.. Please just stop.." I beg him as I clutch my arms around my bruised ribs. Only a few seconds after I have spoken those words I regret it. He hates when I beg him to stop hurting me I know it's because I'm actually making him feel guilty.. I can always see it in his eyes when I beg, but the only way for him to suppress his guilt is by coming at me even harder..

"Shut the hell up you worthless good for nothing little slut!" He screams at me while kicking my lower back making a cried whimper escape from my busted lip.

"I fucking hate you!" He kicks my back.

"I never even wanted you!" Another kick are delivered to my sore back.

"You are so damn pathetic!" He continues his verbal assault while kicking my back. God how I miss the good old days when he would call me princess instead of pathetic.

The more I sob the more angry he seems to get so I fight and fight to keep in the tears that are threatening to escape, I know that if he sees tears stream down my face that it will just infuriate him even more and I don't think I can handle the outcome of that.

I try to crawl away so I hopefully can sit or maybe stand up, anything to get him to reduce the kicks directed at my back. I'm used to the beatings and I can handle it but the worst thing is when he repeatedly go for the same spot over and over again. It creates the biggest most painful bruises.

"Where are you going little darling?" He mocks me.

He grips both of my arms and pulls me to a standing position. My legs wobble a little under my weight but he's holding on to me with such a hard grip that I don't fall.

His hands move up and stop by my collarbone, for a moment I feared he'd move his hands to my neck and maybe strangle me. Nothing this man is capable of surprises me anymore.

He keeps a firm painful grip on me as he looks into my eyes. I look back at him. I desperately search his big brown eyes for the man I once knew but it's a lost cause. He's not there. The man, the father I once knew died along with my mother, and now all I got is this monster portraying to be my father.

After a little while of looking at me he pushes me hard enough to hit the wall. The contact my body did with the wall wouldn't have hurt nearly as much as if he hadn't assaulted my back so viciously.

My dad leaves my bedroom and I hear him waking down the stairs. Probably getting more beer in the kitchen.

I slide down the wall and curl up in a ball on the floor as I finally let the tears fall freely.

My body hurts so bad. I know I should probably move but I just can't get my body to stand up from the floor right now.

I try taking deep breaths but even that hurts.

Eventually I've forced myself up. I take a look at my phone laying on my bedside table, it's 04.30 in the morning and I know that sleep will be out of the question. I'm exhausted but there's no way I will be able to fall asleep while I'm in this much pain.

I walk to my bathroom and scan myself in mirror.

My lip is swollen and bleeding. There is a bruise under my eye but that's not from today. All in all my face isn't so bad just a little red because of the slaps but that will soon go away.

I as gently as possible pull my baggy shirt over my head.

"Aww!" I cry as I had to lift my arms in order to remove my shirt. If feels like my ribs are burning. When the shirt is off I inspect my stomach and my ribs, then I turn around enough for me to see huge bruises start to form all over my back.

I manage to peel off the rest of my clothes so I can step into the shower. I wince every time I take a step and when the water first hit my skin I almost scream, but I know the pain will go away in a second and soon start to feel good against my sore body. Known from experience of course.

I don't get out of the shower, I wait until the water starts to turn colder. I wrap a fluffy towel around myself and a separate one for my long blonde hair.

I'm all done crying now. I did that in the shower and now I just feel drained.

I dress myself carefully in a pair of black skinny jeans, a beige v-neck shirt and a grey jumper. It's awfully painful to clothe myself but there's nothing I can do about it. I already took some Advil but it's not gonna do much good with pain as strong as mine.

After applying make up to my face, hiding all evidence of my fathers rage I manage to get my phone, keys and wallet to walk down the stairs.

It's 07.00 am now. Getting ready took a long time, my injuries slowing me down.

My dad is snoring on the couch with empty beer bottles lying around him.

I make myself some toast and quickly get out of the house.

When I park my car outside the cafe, it's only 07.25 and the cafe doesn't open till eight but luckily Mrs. Sanford gave me a key to the place. My shift doesn't actually start till noon, but I didn't really know where else to go and it's my favorite place to be so here I am.

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