Lucy POV
⚠️Trigger warning: mention of violence.⚠️
I walked inside my house, closing the door behind me. I tried to be as quiet as I could, hoping that he had already passed out.
I was just about to start climbing the steps to the second floor when a voice stopped me.
My insides twisted into a painful knot.
“If it isn’t daddy’s little working girl.” he said, slurring his words.
I turned around to try and speak, but a fist to my stomach stopped me. I bent forward, my breath escaping me.
“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch.” he growled in my ear. “How the fuck dare you make a decision without talking to me?!”
His fist made contact with my ribs, and I fell down on my knees. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head up so I would look at him. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. Screaming only made it worse.
“You will give me each and every penny you earn.” he growled in my face. “If you don’t, my friend Brian would gladly pay you another visit.”
My heart stopped beating.
No.
Not him!
Please not him!
He smirked when he saw the panicked look on my face. “That’s what I thought.”
He let go of my hair so abruptly that I found myself laying underneath his feet. That gave him an opportunity to kick me in the ribs one more time. This time I was sure I heard a crack.
I curled up, protecting my head, expecting another hit from him. But it never came.
“Clean yourself up, bitch.” he said as he stumbled away. “You have work in the morning.”
I stood up carefully, wincing from the pain. I started climbing the stairs carefully.
When I got into my room, I closed my door and locked it. I walked into my bathroom and raised my shirt.
The area around my ribs was red. Tomorrow there will definitely be a bruise. I tried feeling around them carefully, trying to figure out if he broke them again. The pain made me want to throw up. I eventually gave up and decided to take a shower. I will check again tomorrow. I can’t handle any more pain today.
I was so glad that I had the bathroom to myself.
When my mom died, John started punishing me by taking stuff away from me. Whenever I would do something that he didn’t approve of, or when I didn’t do a chore correctly, he would take something away. My toys, my books, my clothes, basically every item from my room that he could get his hands on. He began hitting me about a year later.
Thanks to his punishment, there is only a bed and a small closet in my room now. I have a pillow and a blanket. I have a couple of outfits. I have some books I managed to hide from him. I have everything I need for school. And I have my own bathroom.
If it wasn’t adjacent to my room, he would take that away from me as well.
But I am so lucky he can’t.
Our house doesn’t have a basement or an attic. If it did, I am pretty sure he would have locked me in there sometimes. Maybe he would even make me stay there, who knows.
Again, I am lucky we don’t have either.
I stepped out of the shower and carefully dried my body. I grabbed a painkiller and went to bed. As soon as my head touched the pillow, I was out like a light.
I woke up in the morning feeling like I’d been hit by a bus.
I glanced at my watch. 5:30.
I need to be at work at 7, but before that I need to make him breakfast.
I carefully stood up. Pain made me dizzy.
How the hell am I going to work today?
I walked to my bathroom, did my morning business, and brushed my teeth. I took another painkiller and placed the rest in my bag. There is no way I will survive today without them.
I pulled on my black jeans and put on my old chucks. I grabbed my long-sleeved black shirt and took another look at my ribs before putting it on.
They were still red and swollen, but there was a hint of blue forming on the edges. Great.
I couldn’t make myself touch them and feel if they were broken. I will do that, just not today.
I made my way downstairs and opened the fridge. We were out of food. The only thing I could make for him were the eggs.
He had eggs yesterday, and he doesn’t like to repeat his breakfast.
I sighed. What can I do? I grabbed the last three eggs and started preparing them.
I was so distracted by the pain that I didn’t hear him walk up behind me.
“I had eggs yesterday.” he said, looking over my shoulder.
I winced and glanced up at him. “I am sorry, Sir. We are out of food. There wasn’t anything else.”
“And whose fucking fault is that?” he growled in my ear.
“Mine, Sir.” I whispered.
He grabbed my arm and turned me around so I would face him. His grip on my arm was tight. That only meant another bruise.
“You’ve become a little braver lately.” he said. “I should really do something about that. We don’t want you to think you can get away with anything.”
I felt my shirt rise up and I looked down. He had a knife in his hand, and he used it to lift my shirt up.
When did he get a knife?!
My breathing picked up and tears started forming in my eyes. I hate knives.
“Brian told me you love knives.” he whispered as he pushed the blade into my skin.
I whimpered, tears falling down my face.
I felt him make a small but deep cut below my bellybutton. I gasped and tried to pull away.
His hand gripped me tighter. “Don’t fucking move.”
I looked back up at him and the look in his eyes made me want to puke. I never saw him like that. I don’t think he is drunk either. Is he going to start hurting me even when he is sober?
“Go to work and be a good girl.” he said, sliding the knife around my lower belly. “Bring home food.”
He let go of my arm and walked back upstairs. I waited until I was out of his sight to sit on the floor. I buried my head in my hands and let myself sob quietly. I couldn’t make a loud noise. He would only punish me harder.
After a few minutes, I managed to calm down and got up. I cleaned my wound and bandaged it.
I started walking to work. I left the house a little earlier today because I knew it would take me longer to get to work today. Walking with healthy ribs is not the same as walking with bruised or possibly broken ribs.
Half an hour later, I walked into the diner through the back door. Mike was already there.
“Hey, Lulu.” he greeted me with a smile that turned into a frown as soon as he saw me. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”
I didn’t know I looked that bad. Shit.
I smiled at him, placing my bag down and grabbing an apron. “I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well, though.”
“Will you be okay to work?” he asked, eyeing me up and down.
“Of course.” I smiled.
“Good.” he said. “Grab the coffee pot. We have customers.”
“Already?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Usually, the first customers arrive around 8 am. It was only 7:05.
“Yes.” he nodded with a frown. “Those guys from yesterday are back.”
I nodded and grabbed the coffee pot.
As soon as I opened the kitchen door, I felt their gazes on me. I smiled and slowly walked over to their table.