Letters To My Mate

Chapter Four

This chapter's a lot shorter than the rest, I think, but I'm not sure. It was hard for me to write and I can't put myself into Rachel's position so I'm sorry if it's too much, too little or completely wrong:) Also, Ethan will be introduced in the next chapter, I promise! Also, I'm sorry that it's up late but not many of you read it, right? ahaha, I have to re-write the next chapter so hopefully it should be up by friday; saturday at the latest. Thank you for reading!:') x

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FOUR

"YOU BITCH!"

I cowered into the corner of the living room as another bottle was thrown towards my head. He was angry again; but I wasn't surprised. It's a Saturday, after all. Every Saturday my father and his new 'friends' from 'work' would hang out together, usually at my house, and they would drink non-stop and even sometimes take drugs. I sighed - I hadn't seen them this bad before. They had never had so much alcohol; there were drugs distributed all around the room and bottles of beer lined the coffee table placed in the middle of the room.

You must be wondering why he was angry at me now, yet again... I honestly had no idea. He never needed a reason; he just did it. It was his idea of fun. There wasn't much I could do, though. I could never fight back or run away but instead just allow it to happen. I deserved it and there must be a reason- he's my father...

I was cornered by my father and his 'friends' and smirks were plastered on their faces. I knew what they were going to do - they would play their favourite game. Spin the bottle. This wasn't the spin the bottle that was seen at sleepovers or in movies that would be played within a group of friends for fun. No, this was where they each had a turn to do whatever they wanted with me. The bottle is spun to see who is allowed to have their turn first; they would then proceed with their 'fun'. Don't get me wrong - they had never, you know... I was still pure, I had my innocence and for that I was thankful. I had always hoped and believed that it was because my father was still somewhere in there; I knew that he was still my father and he still loved me, somewhere deep inside his heart.

Geoff, a man in his late forties sauntered towards me, swaying on his unstable feet. He was normally too drunk to do anything major so I knew I was safe for now. His greying hair covered his empty, dull eyes that haunted my nightmares. The broken bottle that they all shared to endure my pain was gripped tightly in his hands and I cringed at the sharp edges. I scrunched my eyes tightly, not wanting to see what would happen. Everything seemed to go by fast after the first hit - I was used to it after all. I did however still feel the sharp pains from the punches, kicks and other abuse that was inflicted upon my already bruised skin.

I opened my eyes in shock as I felt a blade piercing my right shoulder and everything seemed to be in real time again. I turned to my right to see that it was the man who was supposed to love me, to support me throughout my life; it was my father. A sharp, silver pen knife was in his hand and a glazed look took over his eyes. It was like he wasn't there. I knew then that my father was long gone. I don't know how I did not know it before but he died the day that my mother had. The moment we heard the tragic news that changed our lives forever. That was when his soul was taken up to heaven where I knew my mother was looking down upon me. She would be disappointed in me; disappointed that I had not looked after my father and helped him. I had been selfish when I cried to myself every night - It was my fault that she died so why had I not comforted my father? I could have prevented all of this. We could have been happy. It's my entire fault.

I don't know what had happened after that - It had all been one big blur in the back of my mind. All I could remember was the dark look on the group of men's faces as I let the darkness overwhelm me, taking over my body.