*Avery's POV*
I headed up to my house after I got out of Luke's car. I heard him drive off as I opened the door and went inside. It was too early for my dad to be off so I went into the kitchen to start dinner.
My dad is super finicky about me keeping up with my responsibilities. I have to make sure everything around here runs smoothly. If something is dirty, it's my fault. If there isn't any dinner, I'm to blame. If he has nothing to wear to work, guess what, that's a bruise for me. I try to be perfect so I don't get hurt but I still manage to mess something up one way or another.
I took out the chicken I had thawing in the fridge before I left this morning and some vegetable to accompany it. I was gonna roast the chicken and vegetables since it was a simple meal that didn't require too much of me being in here so I could start on my homework.
I cleaned and seasoned the chicken, washed and chopped the vegetables, and put it all in the roasting pan and sprinkled it with oil before putting it into the hot oven. I cleaned up my mess and got started on my work. After a while I finished one assignment and went to check the chicken and drizzle some of the drippings onto the top so it didn't dry out before starting on my other work.
It took me no time to finish that and I was soon putting my things away and heading upstairs to put on a load of clothes. I went into my dad's room to collect the whites out of his hamper and put them all into the washing machine, running the water and throwing in a detergent packet. Once that got going, I went back downstairs to put on a pot of rice to go with the chicken and vegetables.
I left the kitchen to make sure the living room was in order. I kind of felt like Cinderella, except she had a happy ending and I don't see any way I'd have one.
I turned on some music so the house wasn't so quiet and eerie and cleaned. The only problem with that was I got so lost in my music that I forgot about dinner until I started smelling it...burning.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit...I mumbled to myself as I ran into the kitchen to turn the oven and stove off.
But there was no point in doing that. Most of the chicken and vegetables were black and the rice was so over cooked that there was no way I could salvage any of it. I threw everything in the trash and leaned against the counter and ran my fingers through my hair. What was I gonna do? Dinner was ruined and to make matters worse, I could hear the garage door going up.
I was panicking 'cause I knew the hell he was gonna bring when he came inside.
"Why the fuck do I smell something burning?" My dad yelled and slammed the door. "Avery?"
I wanted to stay silent but if I did, he took that as me ignoring him and it'd only make things ten times worse.
"Y-yes?" I managed to say.
"Why do I smell something burning?" He repeated his question with the same amount of forcefulness, just not as loud.
"W-well I-I was cleaning a-and I wasn't paying a-attention..." My entire sentence was choppy and I shuttered as I spoke 'cause he finally came into the kitchen and was staring me down.
"Do you think I pay for groceries around here for you to just go and fucking burn everything! I pay the bills, I put a roof over your measly head and you can't manage not to burn a damn meal!"
"I didn't mean t-to..." I kept my focus on the floor. I was too afraid to look him in the eye. "I-I'm sorry-"
"Your little 'apology' isn't gonna put food on the table now is it!" He asked.
I heard him take steps towards me and I began to back up but remembered I was already against the counter and felt helpless. He grabbed my face and forced me to look up at him. The squeezing was painful but I couldn't say anything or he'd just make it worse. I was already crying before, but the tears were really flowing down my face onto his hand, but he ignored them.
"Listen to me and listen to me good." His voice was low but still frightening. "I've been working all day and I'm hungry. Since you've already fucked up, dinner, I'm gonna give you thirty minutes to prepare me a new meal. You don't want to know what'll happen to you if you fail. Do you understand?" He asked.
I nodded and he squeezed my face even more. "I didn't hear you. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes, sir." I whimpered.
He let go and turned to walk off. I thought I was off the hook before he spun back around, catching me off guard, and slapped me across my cheek. I stumbled and tripped over my feet and my knees hit the hard floor. I tried to grab onto the counter to break my fall but I touched the hot stove instead and I burned the top half of both my hands.
"Dumb bitch..." I heard my dad mumble as he left the room.
I did my best in getting up without using my hands and going over to the sink to run cold water over the burns. After a minute of that, I turned the water off and began on a quick second dinner. My hands were still sore, but I managed to put a frozen pizza in the oven and make a small salad. Once all that was done, I cut a few slices and took it into the living room where my dad sits in front of the television to eat.
"About time, you were cutting it close." He shooed me off and I went to clean up and put the extra food away before heading upstairs to my room. After all that, I didn't even feel like eating.
I applied some cream to my hands to soothe the burning and laid down.
Everything was going perfectly fine. I was organized and got things done in a timely manner, but I had to go and mess it up. I deserve these burns. I deserve this pain. If I was a better person, a better daughter, nothing would go wrong. I'd be happy, I wouldn't have a new bruise or mark on my body every week, things would be perfect.
It all started with my mother's death. She was the best thing in my life and she left me. How could she do that? Why didn't she hold on a little longer? Why didn't she fight to be here with me? She should've known I'd need her. Apparently my dad needs her too, he wouldn't be treating me this way if she was still around. This isn't how my life was supposed to happen. Life is about enjoyment, loving, and dreaming- not verbal and physical abuse, hatred, and pain.
Why did I get stuck with this life? What did I do to deserve all the pain and strife?
I wanted to cut so badly. It helps even out the pain throughout my body and it reminds me just how worthless of a person I really am. I'd do it too, the only things stopping me are my hands. They're sore and I wouldn't be able to properly hold the blade. It's not like I have to worry, though. Something else will most likely happen that'll drive me to cut. Something always does because my life is a never ending spiral of pain. It's a living hell and I constantly debate whether there's a point in fighting anymore.
-
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my alarm going off. I sat up and turned the alarm off and my lamp on. I looked at my hands and they were still that dark shade of red. They were still in a little pain so I tried to bend my fingers but it hurt even more to move them.
I picked up my phone to see it was already six thirty-five. I really wasn't in the mood to go to school today. Not just because of my hands but I was also worn out. Maybe it was because of the headache I had from crying myself to sleep last night or just from yesterday's events period. I didn't feel like being around anyone and I especially didn't feel like pretending with Luke today. I needed to take a little time for myself.
I unlocked my phone and, with great struggle, texted Luke telling him I wasn't going to go to school today so he didn't have to worry about picking me up.
I wanted to go back to sleep, but I wanted to make sure he got my text first.
Luke: Why not? We've got things to do.
Me: I know that but I'm just not feeling it today. I should be good for tomorrow.
Luke: You better be.
I rolled my eyes and sat my phone back on my nightstand. I turned off my lamp and went back to sleep.
*Luke's POV*
This is just great. She's bailing on me because she's not "feeling it". She knows how fucking important this is to me and she can't suck it up and do her job.
After I finished getting ready, I got in my car and drove straight to school since I didn't have to pick her up today. I got out and headed to the doors to go to my locker.
As I went to my locker, I passed that guy Avery was hanging out with yesterday.
"Hey!" He called after me.
I stopped and turned to him. "What?"
"Where's Avery?" He asked.
"Not here, obviously."
"How come? She won't answer my calls or texts."
"What do I look like? She's not my responsibility." I said.
"No, but she is pretending to date you so I suggest you stop being such a dick." He seethed.
"Keep your voice down." I looked around to make sure no one was close, mainly Ashton or Brooke. "Look, Damon, is it?"
"Dylan." He stated.
"Whatever. Look, what Avery and I are doing is our business. She agreed to do me this favor and it's not like she's not getting something out of it. So if you don't mind, I'd like it if you stayed out of my goddamned business and kindly fuck off." I turned and continued my way to my locker.
It's not even seven thirty and I'm already annoyed and done with the day. I just want to get through today without any trouble from anyone. But of course, this is life, and it takes every chance it gets to fuck me in the ass.
-
At the end of the incredibly slow day, I headed to my locker before leaving to my car. Once I finished with that, I left the building and started home. But I took a quick detour and headed to Avery's house. I was curious as to why she bailed on me and her message from this morning was pretty vague.
I pulled up to her house and parked. I got out and walked up to her door and rang the doorbell.
I waited for a minute before she opened the door.
"Luke? What are you doing here?" She asked.
"You don't look sick to me." I said, examining her face.
"I never told you I was." She rolled her eyes.
"Then what else was "I'm just not feeling it today" supposed to mean?"
"That's none of your business. All you need to know is I'm not sick and I'll see you tomorrow."
"Then-" She cut me off.
"Tomorrow." She stated and slammed the door in my face. The nerve of that bitch.
I walked back to my car and was soon making my way home. We really need to speed things along. I don't know how much longer I can put up with her attitude.