What These Bruises Say ›› n.h

Fights, Running, and Niall Horan

Chapter 1

"Scarlett Marie! Get down here!" his voice bellowed. I winced and quickly hopped off my bed. I scurried down the hall and to the kitchen where he called. 

"Yes father?" I asked shakily. 

"Why isn't dinner ready?!" he yelled. 

His face was red with anger. I felt so small compared to him. The way he towered over me, I was so helpless. 

"I-I forgot. I was writing a song and I lost track of t-" 

I tried to explain, but his hand made contact with cheek. I stumbled back and watched as he lifted his hand up for another hit. 

"I thought I told you to stop! You're never going to make it in the music industry! Enough with this shit!" he yelled in my face and brought his hand down once again. "Get me your guitar." 

"Father, please-" 

"Scarlett, get me your guitar." he growled. I nodded and ran to my room, grabbing my guitar. My father ripped it from my grip harshly, never taking his eyes off me. He stared at me as he smashed the instrument to pieces. 

"Father! Please!" I screamed. "It's all I have left!" 

"Left of what?" he asked rudely. 

"Of mother." I whispered. 

"I told you never to mention her!" he yelled and pushed me to the ground. I scrambled to my feet quickly, not wanting a kick to the ribs. 

"She died father! You're going to have to accept that!" I yelped, but then covered my mouth. His eyes narrowed and his hands turned into fists. 

Before he could swing, I sprinted to my room, locking the door behind me. 

I ran around my room, grabbing my song journal and a few essentials. 

All the while, father was banging on my door. Shouting profanities and threats. But all sounds were muffled by my heart's loud thumping. 

I opened my window and threw my small bag to the grass. I hoisted my pained body over the window sill and fell to the ground. 

Then I ran. I ran away. As far as my legs would take me. Through the streets of London. 

I don't even know how long I was running. But I knew I wasn't stopping until I was sure he'd never find me. I turned corners and crossed streets, getting further and further away from the house I once loved. 

But everything changed when mother died. My father changed when mother died. He blamed her death on me. He blames everything on me. He blames me for not finding the cure for cancer. He blames me for not making enough money to support the two of us.