The Beastie and his Princess

Chapter 11

I woke up Friday morning, hopping out of the shower. I was worried about how I was going to cover my face up today, since I was officially out of concealer.

Seemed I didn't have to worry about that, though.

The moment I got downstairs my father was already drunk-and awake. He reminded me about his day off, and when I told him I didn't give a damn and I was heading out to school, he knocked me out with a punch to the back of my skull.

When I woke up again, I had several new fresh bruises covering my entire body. He had punched and kicked me while I was out.

I could hardly get up, and since I was covered in more purple than usual, I decided to just skip one day of school. I trudged back upstairs, glad I had gotten my daily beating over with-even if I wasn't conscious for it.

It was currently Saturday morning, and I had barely gotten out of the shower when I heard my father leaving for work.

"Bye to you too you asshole," I grunted to no one in particular as I put some undergarments on. I heard the door slam shut, and I smiled, content at having the day to myself.

I skipped over to my closet, mentally scolding myself as I winced from the pain on my body. I hurriedly grabbed a big cozy pair of black sweats, choosing to go with a maroon tanktop and some black socks.

I walked downstairs, pouring myself some cereal, when I heard the doorbell ring.

Did my dad forget his keys? I wondered as I poured some milk into my cereal, grabbing a spoon and walking with my food to the door.

Cautiously, I opened the door, making sure only my head peaked out. I frowned as brought my bowl closer to my mouth, shoving a spoonful of frosted flakes into my mouth. "What are you doing here?" I asked Ryder, my voice sounding muffled due to my cereal.

He chuckled at my appearance-since he could only see my wet hair and mouth, which currently had milk drooping down the side.

I quickly cleaned my mouth, still not making a move to let him in. "We're supposed to start our project, remember?"

I gave him a bewildered look, wondering what in the world he was talking about. "Huh?"

He rolled his eyes, moving my face away from the door so he could step in. "The project. We settled on starting our theme and all that today," he reminded me as he shut the door behind him, looking around the room.

I was just glad that my dad's whiskey bottles and everything else were out of sight.

Shoot! My bruises!

Just as I remembered about this, I quickly moved my wet hair to cover my arms, wondering if my face had any bruises. It probably didn't, he would have pointed that out by now. "Oh. I err, forgot about that," I smiled sheepishly, watching as he walked to my kitchen. I took another bite of my cereal, looking at him. "You hungry?" I asked.

He smiled, "I was wondering when you'd ask," he said, delighted by the idea of me serving him some food.

I gave him a sweet smile, eating more of my cereal. "Cool. There's some bowls in the pantry, cereal above the fridge, and milk in the fridge. Make it yourself," I let my smile drop, throwing the rest of my food in the sink.

"I'll be back!" I yelled as I quickly ran to my room, trying my best to hide my bruises as my hair whipped all around.

"Hey! That's not how you treat a guest," he whined.

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to respond. I dodged into my room, grabbing a random light long sleeved shirt, throwing it over my head. I ran back downstairs after making sure my bruises weren't that noticeable, using every last bit of foundation that I could to hide a fainting purple bruise on my cheekbone.