✓𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧¹ | 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

1.9

Trigger warning: Abuse and mentions of gore.

If these topics make you uncomfortable skip to the next chapter!

Provide feedback at the end <3

I couldn't remember exactly when it all started. All I knew was that when it was just me, then it would happen. And I couldn't tell anyone about it, not even my dad. He wouldn't let me.

He'd say that if I did then he'd do it again. But he would anyway even when I didn't try to get attention from anyone.

I hated it just being me and him in the house. It was usually when my uncle merle was getting shit faced at a bar and my dad was out in the woods or forced along with my uncle, and I wast home. With my gramps. I hated him.

We all lived together, whether we liked it or not. Family, they said. But were we really a family if we couldn't look at each other in the eye with a smile when he was around?

"You're a fucking disgrace!" His voice boomed from behind the door. Grandpa Will's drunken rang followed by loud bashes on Lilia's bedroom door. "Open the door, now!"

Her body was cold, head feeling clogged up from all her worry rushing throughout her head. An 11 year old shouldn't feel like this, or have to suffer through this..but Lilia did. She was one of the souls of the Dixon family that faced Will's wrath, sober or not his hits still made a permanent scar on them. Physical and emotional.

She felt like she was looking down upon herself like a spectator. She was crouched in front of the door, as if her small body weight could hold back the rage from the other side. Her knees up to her chin with her arms squeezing them, attempting to feel some small warmth from her blood to keep her calm. Eyes were glossy and threatened to spill out, but she couldn't. Crying was not allowed. Breath hitching at every bang, not daring to blink incase something drastic suddenly happens. Her lumbs were numb from the immense holding.

Her lungs felt incapable of drawing breath anything. In the very back or her head, behind the faint ringing in her eyes and thumping on her wooden door, the sound of a glass bottle shattering made her heart drop and shatter with it. A dark chuckle, echoing around as if it was just her standing alone in the cabin. They lived on the edge of the woods, nobody would be able to hear her pleads.

She felt unsafe and on edge, triggering her senses to flood back and immediately gain consciousness. She placed her head in her hands and pressed over her ears to block everything. She could feel the door against her back, pressing and shoving her, pushing her forwards due to the sudden weight and then quickly shuffled several steps forward.

"Didn't you hear me?" He bellowed out, and the rattling of the doorknob scared  her more. His jagged edge to her voice went straight through her. She blinked, but no matter how much she blinked she couldn't wake up. This was reality for her. She tried to push her hair out of her face, but her hands were shaking that much it only made it fall back into place as she could barely control her movements.  "I said open this door."

The doorknob stopped rattling, the sound falling with a last shake from it before the squeak of the door followed when it opened.

The poor girl tried to turn away from him, terrified to see the familiar, angry face miles above her, who she was suppose to call family. No matter how many times she shook her head his features still stayed the same with drunken rage and dark patch of void. He reached out for her, a broken beer bottle in his other hand and swung lazily but she moved back even further. It was like he wanted to rip everything around her into shreds, staring with his granddaughter first. If he were to lay a hand on something, it would be her as it would break without even thinking about it.