Four's sister

7 Years old

"AHHHHH"
I suddenly bolt straight upright, and shrink back farther into the corner of my room, trying - and failing - to suppress a whimper. I don't have a bed. My father says that would make me greedy and selfish, so now I just curl up and wait for what happens next.
"LUNA!" My father bellows.
I know what coming, and I know there's no escaping it, so I just stand up and make my way downstairs. I keep my eyes trained on the floor, out of fear more than respect, and can see my older brother in fetal position with angry red whip marks on his back.
"Shirt off." My father growls out roughly. I obey quickly as I cower in fear. I then grab onto the counter in preparation. I hear the crack of I whip and then feel the searing travelling in a straight line from my left shoulder to my right side lower back. I know he'll hit me seven times, once for each year of my life. The first ones hard, and I always think it'd be impossible for him to hit any harder, but I'm always wrong. The first is always the lightest, and the last one is the hardest. I'm told he wasn't always like this; that he was nice at one point, but that's hard for me to believe. He's been like this since my mom died when I was three and Toby was six. He started beating me last year on my birthday, and since then it's been almost daily. He started beating my brother when he was six, but it started of light, he got belted once every two weeks, with five hits. It was like this for the first year, and from there it only escalated.
I was brought out of my thoughts by another crack of the belt. A cry escaped my lips and black spots started to cloud my vision. I new I'd wake up in the mourning, with a bunch of blister and new cuts that would probably scar my young tender skin.
"CRACK"
Only four more, I thought to myself as I lost my grip on consciousness.