Homeless (Michael Clifford Fanfic)

Chapter 52

***TWO UPDATES IN ONE DAY YAY! THIS FANFIC IS PROBABLY ENDING SOON IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR ALMOST A YEAR AND THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS READ THIS I LOVE YOU***

I've now been in therapy for five weeks now and it's been almost two months. The days just drag on by without him.
It was a Friday night and I was cleaning the kitchen when my dad stormed in.
"Why are these in your bag?" My dad questioned, pointing to a pack of cigarettes and a condom.
"You went through my stuff you asshole!" I yelled, snatching them out of his hand.
"Don't you dare say that to me I'm your father!" He yelled, gripping my wrist tight.
"Well you sure don't act like a real one!" I yelled, earning me a slap across the face. My cheek felt numb.
"Why are those in your bag?" He snarled.
"Because I'm 18 and am technically an adult. I can do what I want." I said.
"As long as you love under this house, you have no rights." He said, slamming his fist on the table.
He then grabbed the items out of my hand, but I took them right back.
"I'm old enough to make my own decisions now I don't need to live here I don't deserve to be taken away from someone who made me happy my life was going well until you took me away!" I spat.
"Oh please when you left you ended up on the streets. And you came crawling back to us before and that's what got you on the streets!" He said.
"Because you left! A real father would be there for me no matter what and you left! But I found a way! I found someone who helped me and made my happy and you took that away! You're no help at all! Every second near you makes me wish I was back on the street!" I yelled.
"We let you into our home to take care of you, appreciate it!" He said.
"No!" I said.
"Why do you have this? What are you a whore?" He asked.
I took offense to that and shoved him back a bit.
"How dare you say that to your daughter you're lucky I'm actually using one. What I'm 18 you didn't fuck around when you were 18? What do you think I did with my boyfriend?" I asked.
"Kayla!" My mother gasped from the other side of the kitchen.
"Go away! We are in the middle of something!" He said.
"Hey don't talk to mom like that!" I said.
"Shut up!" He spat, turning back at me.
"No! I won't! Fuck you!" I yelled.
He then yanked my hair and pulled me close to his face.
"You think you can talk like that to me, think again." He growled, letting go and sending me to the ground.
I hit the ground and looked up at him.
"I'll get out of here soon. I'll make it on my own. I don't need any of you." I said.
"Yea okay. Good luck with your little fuck buddy." He said, walking away and going upstairs to bed.
I didn't get up. I just laid on the floor and began to cry. What if he was right? I want to believe I can make it on my own, but how can I? What if I can't? I felt tears run down my fave as I laid my head on the tile floor. I then looked up and saw the phone. I also saw no one was around. I quickly got up and ran to the phone. I sat for a minute trying to remember the number. It then came to my head and I dialed Michael's cell number.
The phone kept ringing and ringing. I hung up and tried again. I pray he was going to answer, what if he doesn't recognize the number and just doesn't pick up. As I was thinking the ringing stopped and so did my heart.
"Hello! Hello?" He said, sounding frantic.
It took me a minute to get the words out.
"Kayla?" He stuttered.
"Hi Mikey." I whispered.
"Holy shit. It's you. I never thought I would get this call again oh my god hi." He said.
"I'm so happy to hear your voice." I cried.
"Yours too, but I wish I could see your face."
"Same." I smiled.
"So how is it over there?" He asked.
I then went quiet for a minute. I felt years run down my face.
"Kayla? Are you okay? What's wrong? What happened?" He frantically asked.
"Michael it's hell. It is awful." I cried.
"Why? What happened?" He asked.
I then looked around to make sure my parents weren't around.
"My mom is making me go to therapy and my dad is not the man he said he would be." I cried.
"What do you mean?" He asked, sounding paranoid.
"I have bruises all over my wrist from him grabbing me and he called me a whore and a failure. He said I have no rights here." I cried.
"Kayla why don't you call the cops for CPA?" He asked.
"He said he would kill me and my mother and I'm scared he speaks the truth. My mother is too scared to talk back to him. I've tried to escape, but it never works Michael I'm miserable help me." I cried into the phone.
No voice back, just dead silence.
"Michael? Michael?" I cried.
I turned around to see my father standing with the phone unplugged.
Shit.
"What did I tell you about using the phone? Did you call him you little shit!" He said, about to come and grab me. I smacked him in the face with the phone and ran upstairs where I was chased.
"Mom help!" I cried.
Before I could say anything else my father got me on the ground. He then picked me up and brought me to my room. I was hanging over his shoulder as I was kicking and screaming. I was punching and scratching his back, but it was no use.
He the. Threw me on the floor in my room and close the door. He then locked it so I couldn't get out.
I then sat in the corner of my dark room and sobbed.