•banner by AlinaLopez2 , author of Bullied, the spinoff about Dylan
WARNING: a bit of ABUSE IN THIS, not much.
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~Mikayla's p.o.v.~
Three years.
It's been three years since my life took a painful downward-spiral. I was so happy with my life then. I had all I could ask for. The best friend, the most loving and best parents in the world, all in all my life was perfect when you compare it to the life I have now.
In my freshman year of high school, my life took a turn for the worst. My best friend just stopped talking to me, family troubles arose, and I faced problems on my own. And I'd do anything to have the smallest of a grasp of the life I had before.
Eventually I had to stop living in the past, so I made a new best friend, was lucky enough to snag myself a boyfriend on the way, and picked up my grades that had gone down along with my past. But of course, you can never fix everything. My home life would never have been the same, I knew that, and I had overcome those problems with myself that came along with the things that had gone on a while ago.
This is my life now.
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I slammed my hand down on the button of my alarm clock before Rebecca Black's voice can begin belting: 'Its Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday . . . ' . Groaning, I reluctantly get out of bed.
Here's a piece of advice: If you want to make sure you get up in the morning, pick the most loud or annoying song you know and put the alarm clock across the room. Every night I set a new song on the clock.
Jumping, I almost had a heart attack when I heard a screeching sound that sent shivers to run along my spine. I ran to my window to see my father's car just turning the corner and out of sight. Doing my happy dance, I got the shampoo and conditioner I bought with the money I get from my job and I made my way to the bathroom to take a shower and put on my music from my phone.
Once in the bathroom, I stripped off the clothes from yesterday - I don't really have pajamas - and hop in the shower.
***
Singing along to 'Counting Stars' by One Republic, I heard the front door slam shut. I quickly shut off the water, jumped out of the shower, and put my music on mute. My heart was beating faster than a cheetah can run in one minute. Oh my god, what if it was my father and he had heard me? I'm going to be in big trouble. My father doesn't want me here - when he does, he needs something - but I sleep here because I think my best friend, Alyssa, would start to wonder why I sleep over her house all the time or why I never come home, so I just come here around eight p.m. when my father is passed out drunk and wake up at six a.m., when he leaves for work. I do all my homework either at the park or my schools library. The only times he isn't here is on the weekends or when there's no work for him the next day.
You see, my father and I used to have that really close relationship when I was younger, you know that 'daddy's little princess' type of relationship
But then him and my mom started having these arguments, involving yelling, shouting, cursing, and things breaking when they thought I was in bed, asleep; one day I guess my father had enough and decided to let all those years of marriage go. He had an affair on my mother. She was heartbroken when the guilt ate him up and he told her the truth, and even though they fought every single day for the smallest of reasons, they still loved each other. We both knew something was up when for a week he neither picked a fight with her or disregarded the questions she asked that for sure led to a fight.
She left the week after he confessed. My father started abusing me 6 months after, saying that it was all my fault she left and if I were never born she would still be here. At first I wondered if he was right, because sometimes they would fight over me; like one time when I was little my dad had lost my birth certificate and about one month before my mother left, they found it all crumpled and wrinkly, almost torn. I didn't really care much of it, but then my mom went on a rant to my father after I went to bed on how it held so many memories of the day I was born. Sometimes I wonder to myself, why didn't my mom take me with her and if she hated me too, like my father, that she would leave me in this house with an abusive man as my guardian? But then I remember that she probably didn't think my father would ever do that to me and thought it was best to leave me with a parent that had a job, a roof over my head, and food to eat. Most importantly, that she believed would be able to care for me.
I look down at the newest scar located on my hand.
'Stepping through the threshold on a Friday looking down at my phone, I noticed I must've left the AC on making the living room nice and fresh, a big contrast to what it was like outside. Thinking my father was at a bar, seeing as it was a Friday, I was going to head up the stairs to go get my money for the store so me and Alyssa can get ice cream from our favorite little corner store that has about 5 booths at the very back. That's when I came face to face - more like face to chest - with an angry looking father. I was tripping over my own incoherent excuses, thinking of the things he has done to me in the past, of what he will do to me now. I stopped, surprised, when he smiled.
"Come with me," he firmly stated and disappeared into the hallway that leads to the kitchen. I knew better than to not listen to him, so I slipped my phone in my back pocket and followed like I was told.
I found him in the kitchen boiling water, next to the pot was a 'Cup of Noodles'. "Sit down Miki, please." He called me Miki. I took the furthest seat from him and stood quiet. After a minute of silence, he decided he would break it. "So how's school, keeping 'em grades good I hope?" He smiled.
I sighed shakily, running my trembling fingers through my hair. "Yup." I'm somewhat a nerd, as some people would put it. I feel like I'm connecting to my mom somehow or at least that's what I think of it as. Weird? I know. We would always talk about me graduating high school and going to college where I would learn how to be a physician from there. Or maybe it was because school was the only place where I knew I was safe from the man in front of me.
"Close your eyes, I have a surprise for you - for all your hard work," he suddenly said, excitment in his eyes. He only ever looked like that when I was little and a daddy's girl whenever he had surprises for me. Why did he have to put everything on me, say it was my fault? In all honesty, I miss the old him, when he was my caring dad, when I would call him Daddy. Not just my biological father. I don't call him dad anymore, I can't, I refuse to after all he has done to me, because, I believe, a father is the one that helped create you, and they don't have to be in you life or care for you at all; they could leave when they find out the mother is pregnant, they don't have to give a damn about you; while a dad helps raise you, they love you, and are with you through thick and thin. You don't have to be blood related. The only reason I stay is because I know he is still depressed mom left and I am afraid he will try to do something to himself, and I also have some hope he'll go back to the way he was before.
My train of thoughts were broken when I heard foot steps, had some fingers snapped in my face twice, and someone say, "I always wondered what was going on in that head of yours. Come on, close your eyes." He smiled at me.
"Um . . . a friend is waiting for me. Maybe I should go, I don't want to keep her waiting," I said, starting to get off the chair. Before I could though, he stood in front of me and lifted up a hand. Acting on total instinct, I flinched away. He looked at me as if I had two heads and eight eyes, then frowned, like he was hurt I was scared of him. The hand he had put up before, found my shoulder and he pushed me down on the chair, surprisingly gentle.
"C'mon don't be shy, its a surprise, I haven't given one to you since you were fifteen. I feel really bad about it, Mikayla," he said again, not frowning. Fifteen was the age my mom left us, I was turning eighteen in a couple of months.
"Okay," I sighed shakily and closed my eyes. I heard footsteps as they got softer, meaning he was walking away. I opened my eyes, trying to see if he had left the room or at least had his back to me so I could try and leave. My heart skipped a beat when I saw he could be facing me but he was at least 5 feet to the right, more or less, on the other side of the counter. I quickly closed my eyes before he can see I'm peeking. I heard some clatter, then the footsteps got louder - indicating he's coming closer - after a while of waiting.
"Hold out your hand," my father whispered as I felt him stand in front of me, making my heart suddenly stop as it was beating so hard and fast. I did as I was told and he took hold of my hand roughly to make sure I wouldn't pull away. That's when I panicked.
Soon, I felt a stinging sensation on a part of my hand, the part where my pointer and thumb meet. I let out a frantic yell but he covered my mouth midway. "I thought I told you to never let me see you again," he growled in a low, menacing voice that had me shivering. I opened my eyes to see a spoon still filled with water in my fathers hand, steam coming out from the water, evaporation. That was the water he was boiling. My eyes went wide. He burnt me?! "Get out," he commanded with his voice the same as before, and it sent shivers down my spine, pointing towards the direction of the door. I got off my chair and ran out the house.
When I saw Alyssa I made an excuse saying I don't have anymore money and how I must have spent it when I went out with my boyfriend, Aiden, on Saturday last week, my hands behind my back, playing with my bracelet. I also slept at her house for that night, too afraid of my father that day.'
Knock Knock.
I nearly jump a foot in the air hearing . . . knocks on the door? My father is usually close to breaking the door down. "Wh-who is it?" I finally got the courage to speak.
"Its just me. Hurry up I need to get to school early," a voice that brought a smile to my face, like music to my ears, had said. I quickly changed and opened the door. In front of me is my boyfriend of 2 years and 3 months, Aiden.
"Hey, what are you doing here? How did you get in?" I asked frantic of what my father will do if he gets home and sees me and Aiden here. He doesn't know I have a boyfriend, hell I don't even think he thinks I have friends. It's not like he'd be overprotective of me, he would just try to take my happiness away. It's complicated.
"I was knocking on your door but you wouldn't answer it, so I used the key I see that you use when you lose your key or something. When I got in I heard the water on and came here," he explained looking down at me. "Now, come on we have to go, Alyssa is waiting for us outside and I need to get to school." He pulled me towards the direction of the front door.
"What's wrong?" I asked, stopping in my tracks.
He shrugged. "I'm sorry. I just had a pretty bad morning."
My shoulders sagged. "Parents?" I asked.
"Yeah," he answered.
I stood on my tippy-toes and pecked his soft lips lightly. "Come on, You have to get to school early." Aiden was behind in some classes and was doing extra credit for his teachers. Besides, Alyssa must be getting impatient." I smiled up at him when my feet were flat on the floor.
He smiled back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
I remembered he was telling me last night on the phone about his mom and his dad fighting, two weeks straight.
We were already walking outside when I saw my best friend Alyssa, who was looking at us with a very pissed off expression. She came storming over to us. "What the hell you guys? What took so long?!" she demanded. "We're going to be late!" she exclaimed.
I just rolled my eyes, cracked a smile, and kept walking off towards the direction of the school. She's such a drama queen sometimes, but I love her. She has been like a sister to me ever since freshman year when I stood up from my chair to walk to my second period class and she came up behind me, told me I was stained before anyone could have noticed, and let me barrow some extra pants of hers. We instantly clicked. We hardly had any arguments, but when we did they were harmless and we'd make up after an hour or so.
I met Aiden in my sophomore year - 4 months before school ended - in one of my classes when we bumped into each other, we started talking another day when we were paired up in a group assignment with 3 other people. He asked me out a month later. I was surprised at first but held my composure, smiled and said yes.
I wasn't very experienced with guys.
For the date we went to the theaters and watched a romantic movie. He didn't know that I preferred horror, action, and comedies over chick flicks and romantic ones. If I were to watch a romantic movie, it'd have to be a romantic comedy. But it was okay, he didn't know. The memory of the first date brought a wide grin to my face. I love Aiden, I told him three months into the relationship.
Aiden took hold of my hand and smiled down at me, but, yet again, it didn't reach his eyes. It took everything in me to try and hide my disappointment. I smiled back and looked away. I think I was convincing enough because soon enough he was rubbing circles on my hand with his thumb. After a minute or so, he suddenly stopped and turned to me with concern written all over his face. "What happened here?" Aiden asked bringing up my hand in front of my face. I looked to see the burn on my hand from last week.
"I was um . . . serving my self 'Cup of Noodles' and burnt myself by accident," I lied, playing with my bracelet. It was kind of the truth because my father was serving himself some, it just wasn't by accident. I always play with my bracelet when I'm lying. My mom gave it to me on my 8th birthday. Thankfully, Aiden doesn't know I do that, he thinks it's just a habit I have. As for Alyssa . . . she knows I do this when I'm lying. I started to panic, what if she expects an explanation later on why I really have the burn?
She knows about my fathers dependency on alcohol, but that's about it. I never told her about the hits I take from him. When I had first told her she was suspicious that he would act out of hand with me when he's intoxicated, but I had reassured her he's nowhere near me when he is. She bought it, but when she sees a cut or a bruise, I feel like I've been interogated by the police and I'm the prime suspect.
I look over at her to see she's looking down at her phone.
"Be more careful next time."
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thank you for taking time from your day to read this. If you liked this chapter, think about giving it a vote? And I take constructive criticism (but please know the difference between constructive criticism and hate).
edit: you guys feel like 3 months is early for a relationship with the main character and a guy you don't like. But if it was with people you do like, you do your dance
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