Found My Second Chance

chapter 1

I had it all, originally. I never thought I would say this but- my life sucks. The man who used to tuck me in and call me his sunshine doesn't really love me at all. "Don't you worry sweetheart, Daddy loves you and he'll be back soon." he used to tell me, effectively calming my nerves when he went on a buisness trip. Now I don't even care about the jerk. I should have ran downstairs and yelled at him everything he fell inside the door, more drunk than anyone should even hear stories of their father being. I should have banged the pots and pans together when he told me to quiet down because he had a "special headache." I know now that I should have made him bleed everytime he reared his hand back and slapped me across the face, continuing to beat me until my lies about the cuts and bruises weren't convincing people anymore. So many things I should have done, but I should have done one thing the most. Every single time he made an excuse about going to help stupid Linda with her "work assignment" from his company, only to come back messy and grinning like an idiot. I should have thrown him back inside when he tried to leave and screamed at him for being a lying cheat.

But I couldn't. I was afraid of the large, calloused hand slapping my face or even clamping down around my throat. Afraid of the drunken rage that hung about him everytime he came home late. I was afraid of that dreadful woman, Linda, and her sick joy at my torture. I couldn't do all those things and now I'm paying the price.

Seven years ago.

I was ten years old when we found out. I'm sure my mother had her doubts about him before that night. It seemed like a normal night. The fire was burning brightly in the large fireplace of our New Hampshie home. A comedy movie was playing on our television. Mum and I were leaning up against our soft sofa. Small, almost empty cups of Russian Earl Gray tea were on the floor in front of us. The two loveseats were slightly blocking our view, but we didn't mind. We did mind one thing though. Father hadn't come home yet, and his day at work had ended almost five hours ago.

A car door slammed shut in the driveway just as the credits started rolling. I smiled almost immediately, but the look on my mother's face made me frown. She stood and looked expectantly at the door. A key could be heard fumbling in the front door's lock. Even my ten year old self knew something was wrong with him. He stumbled inside the door, grabbing the kitchen counter for balance after he almost fell to the floor like the drunken mess he was.

His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were bloodshot like he hadn't slept in months. His tie and shirt collar were askew, making my father look more clown than CEO. I couldn't tell which was worse- the half-empty beer bottle in one hand or the bright red lipstick peppering his nack and face. Mom's fists were clenched and her arms were shaking. She looked like her blood had been replaced with anger and sadness.

"How could you Jamison.... How could you!" she shouted at him, and backed up until she was halfway to me and the sofa. The man my brother once looked up to sauntered his drunken way forwards, swaying on his feet. I thought he had lost his favorite brown belt, until I realized that he was holding it tightly in one hand. My mother noticed too, and shakily backed up. He raised up the belt, and stumbled forwards. I cried out for him to stop, and in front of him, grabbing his arm. My father growled in an almost inhuman sounding way, and looked down at me. The look in his eyes made my knees grow weak.

They weren't my father's soft, loving green eyes that I had inherited. They were cold, piercing, a monster of a man's eyes. Now I am ashamed to have his eyes. He raised the belt again, and brought it down, this time striking me with the metal clasp. It landed directly under my ribs. Tears flowed from my eyes, and I fell to my knees, curling up into a tight ball. The belt fell again and again, beaiting me again and again. I could feel my skin rupturing and bruising, and I blacked out from the pain.

Seven years later.

"Fae, get up! You're going to be late!" my older brother, Elliot, hollered to me. Groaning, I mumbled an incoherent reply, and pulled the covers back up over my head. "Come on Faelynn, it's almost five minutes to seven!" he called from the bathroom, and my irritated groan switched into a petrified shriek. I leaped from my bed- fully awake now, might I add- and checked the time on my phone, fumbling with the screen. It was 6:15. Six freaking fifteen.

"You're a jerk!" I shouted at him.

"And you're an idiot! How many times are you gonna fall for that?" his laughter rang out from the hallway as he walked into his room. I grumbled out a couple of words my mother wouldn't really approve of, and slipped of my rumpled tee-shirt and Batman pajama shorts. I slid on my Pain! At the Disco long sleeve. A knock rang out on my door just as I finished buttoning my high-waisted short and tying my combat boots. It was surprisingly warm for September in

"Hey. Just wanted to let you know that Chase is going to be driving you to school." my mother announced. I looked over at her, and frowned at her appearance. her usually sleek, sandy blonde hair was a tangled mess that she had pulled up into a bun. Huge bags framed her usually bright and beautiful eyes. Baggy sweatpants clung to her long legs, and a sweatshirt hung about her frame. She smiled wearily and walked back out. Ever since Dad spiraled out of control- as other, unabused people would put it- she's had to work her butt off to keep our small family of three running. She's strong but I don't think that strength will last.

I thought back to what she had said, and a small, triumphant grin broke out on my face. Chase is my best firmed, and he has been my best friend ever since first grade. We really became close after Casey We-Don't-Speak-of-Her-Donovan ditched us for her cheer "friends." In reality she's just a part of local bitch Aria Glenn's entourage. We'll get to her later. We used to be like a gender bent version of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Or maybe Annabeth, Percy, and Grover.

After hurriedly putting on my thin eyeliner and a generous coat of mascara(thank the stars for my clear complexion- minus the scars), I ran downstairs with my backpack in hand. Elliott was sitting at the table, wolfing down his breakfast like it was going to be snatched from him at any second. Which, it honestly was. Just as he lifted another piece of toast close to his lips, I darted around his side and snatched the piece of toast out of his hand. I smirked smugly as his mouth opened in shock. I took a large bite, and he pouted, which looked hilarious on the 22 year old. "You snooze, you lose, you." my words came out as a muffled mess as I spoke around my mouthful of toast. He grumpily grumbled something about older siblings needing more respect and imitated me like a child. "Oh, yes, because you're acting so much older right now." I walked over to the door with a casual eyeroll, and called a goodbye to my brother and mom.

As I walked over to Chase's GMC pick-up truck, I noticed something strange about his expression. It was angry and pained, and he was staring straight ahead. His hands clutched the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned bright white long ago, his jaw set like he was grinding his teeth. Furrowing my eyebrows, I opened the passenger side door and threw my bag in the back. I sat down in the seat just as I heard a loud yelp. I whipped my head around only to have my jaw drop in shock. My back slammed into the door as I jerked away from the figure in the backseat. I could practically feel his emotions rolling off him in waves- smugness, cockiness, anger. "Good morning, Faelynn." A whimper involuntarily escaped my lips, and I curled up in the corner of my seat. My heartbeat was racing faster than I thought possible.

"What the hell are you doing here, Julian!?"