Care For Me ✔️

17

A/N: shorter chapter.

trigger warning: mentions and detailed descriptions child abuse. It can be skipped, I'll leave a brief description of any key details on the A/N at the end.

L I L Y

Run, Lily, run!

My subconscious screams at me, so loud I swear I can hear the words catch in the wind. But I don't move. I can't move. I hear the words, I hear the plea, yet I'm frozen in place with the bone chilling fear that paralyses my bones as I stare at my father, my abuser like a deer caught in headlights.

I wait for him to make his move, rooted in place like a pawn piece on the chess board and he is the king, teasing me, taunting me, just waiting for the right time to strike me out.

But he doesn't move.

He just stares.

His amber eyes bore into mine. He reminds me of monsters in the shadows, like a yellow eyed wolf hiding in the tree line.

I can't help but stare back, waiting, cautiously trying to figure out his next move. I'm like a pig awaiting slaughter, all for his consumption. I know what he wants from me. He wants me to make my move, to walk forward, to submit to him and his silent demands like a good little girl.

And like the fool I am, I do.

It's like I'm levitating, all fight or flight has left and I'm being drag against my will towards him. My feet move, but I'm not in control. I'm not, I swear I'm not. I don't want to get close, but it's like his eyes are a signal to my brain and one look has him commanding my every movement.

His lips curve in a sinister smirk, a winning smirk. He's knows he's got me right where he wants me. He knows how pathetic I am, how weak I am. He's told me so enough throughout the years that it's burned into my heart like a horses brand.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

It's all I am. It's all I've ever been. All I'll ever be. Weak. Worthless. Pathetic. He taught me words no daughter should ever hear her father say. Then again, I'm not a daughter to him, he's made that clear.

I'm a burden.

And now he'll show me just how unwanted I really am.

"A whore now, Lily?" He chuckles, eyes taking my clothing in. The sound reverberates in my ears and down my spine like a bullets shrapnel, piercing every groove of my spine until my legs feel weak.

I wrap the sleeves of Atlas' sweater down and over my finger tips, holding them tight, breathing in the scent of his laundry powder like he's here with me now. Maybe, I could close my eyes and imagine I'm back there. Back with him. With them. Back in my happy place. 

Father grabs my wrist so tight that I'm sure the bones inside grind together as they meet. He drags me inside and my back meets the door in an instant, the lock piercing into my skin.

"Where the fuck have you been and what the fuck are you wearing? Whose clothes are these?" I can smell the pungent alcohol on his tongue as he spits every word in my face.

I pale.

I'm not allowed friends.

"Answer me when I speak to you!" He screams and I flinch back. His hand wraps around my wrist tighter as he forces his body over mine, smothering me against the doorframe.