Chapter Four

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Sorry, it's a short chapter. I'm starting to get writers block ! :/

'Chapter Four'

Alyssa’s gone to a friend’s for the night; Mom thought it was a good idea for her to be out of the house for a while to get a way. I wish I could do that sometimes. I lay in my bed waiting for “him” to come speeding down the road and come to a screeching halt in the driveway, then hear doors slamming, fighting and yelling, and my mother crying. I can almost predict what will happen next, every time they fight it is the EXACT same thing. Thinking about it makes me feel worse, and now I actually hear his beat up car coming.

“Where is she!?” The front door slams and dad yells this at my mother.

“Hunny,” my mother starts. “Why don’t you just leave her alone tonight.” she says, not really as a question but a demand.

“Hell no!!!” He yells. I hear him beating up the stairs, coming closer; every step sounding like bricks hitting the ancient stairs. My heart beats out of my chest now knowing what’s coming to me. He jiggles the handle trying to enter but the door is locked, beating harder now yelling “Open this Jesus door or I’ll rip it off the bloody hinges Aubrey!” I can’t risk losing the bit of privacy I have I fly off my bed and unlock the door. It flies open and hits again the wall hard; another dent almost making a hole.

“Who do you think you are?” He yells taking a step toward me and I step back. “You really need Alyssa to protect you, dumb bitch can’t even fend for herself.” He laughs.

“She doesn’t know any better, she’s ten. She does what she thinks is right.” I take another step back. “And we all know you wouldn’t lay a finger on her or mom would kick your ass out!” I yell back, feeling braver now.

“What did you just say? What did I tell you about talking back, now you know what’s coming. And just to let you know you little whore; you would be out before any of us. I own this house, I can do what I want and your mother would never put me out!” He screams and starts moving towards me quicker now. I notice he picks up a candle on my dresser, trying to hide it behind him. Were about five feet apart now.

“Why don’t you just do what you came in here to do and get the hell out? Beat me and bruise me like you’ve been doing since I was five. Ten years of this. You aren’t my dad you’re a... a… monster!” I say this now trying a guilt trip, maybe he will actually feel bad enough to stop for once.

Was I wrong, he pulls his arm back and I see the candle flying at me I try to swerve but can’t avoid it fast enough. *SMASH* it gets me in the side of the face. Glass shatters everywhere followed by bits of wax. Pain rushes through me immediately, I fall to my knees and a whimper escapes from me. Everything starts to go blurry and I curl into a ball on the floor. I can’t see but I hear footsteps coming closer.

“That’s what you get you crack head bitch!” he slurs, then I definitely know he’s fueled by alcohol. “Say anything like that to me ever again I WILL kill you.” He says this in almost a whisper now and stalks out of the room slamming the door behind him, everything goes black now.

*** Later***

When I wake up I’m in the same place I passed out, the house is silent. My head is pounding; I pull myself up touching my beat up face. I listen for any movement in the house but there is none, I look out the window and the cars are gone. I stumble to my door and open it, going to the bathroom. I stare into the mirror, looking at this face in the glass that I don’t know. Covered in dry blood, bruising and even a few shard of glass stick out of the wounds. The whole right side of my face is covered in red marks, like someone took a marker and drew thick lines all over. My left eye is still recovering from the hit from the other night. I’m a black and blue mess. I grab a face cloth and run turn the tap on, watching the water run out, I soak the cloth and dab my face with it. It stings like someone is trying to light me on fire. Once I get most of the dried blood of I pick a few pieces of glass out. I walk back to my room and stare at my alarm clock. The bright red numbers flash 2:00am. The fight happened at 9:00, I’ve been out for hours. I can’t take the pain; there isn’t even a single pill in this house to take it away for a few hours. I crawl in my bed; I need to sleep so I can’t feel the pain. Five minutes and I’m out.

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