Midnight's Promise

Chapter 1

I know he's watching.

I have no idea who he is, all I know is that he has deep blue eyes that seem to sparkle whenever we make eye contact, which isn't very often though. He's sitting in the large eucalyptus tree beside my bedroom, and he usually stays there for a couple of hours. I know I should be scared out of my mind, telling my father, calling the police and all that other stuff, but I feel safe when he's there, because if I tell my father I hold no hope for that boys survival.

My fathers an alcoholic, a mean one too. Sometimes when he's off his head he blacks out, that's when he turns abusive. Of course the next day he's all apologetic, saying he's sorry and asking for my forgiveness. I'm a push over, if someone says sorry I automatically reply with "It's okay," or "I'm fine," and my father knows this and uses it against me. Whenever he apologises I always tell him it's okay, I forgive him and I'll be able to hide the bruises and cuts easily.

Yet deep inside I know I wont forgive him that easily for losing himself and taking his anger out on me, forcing my week to become uncomfortable and sweaty from wearing long sleeve t-shirts and jeans in summer. I'm not perfect but I know I deserve better than this.

That's why I like the boy in the eucalyptus tree beside my bedroom window each night. When I retreat to my bedroom to hide from my father I hold some small hope that If I needed help, he'll be there. If not why else is he there, to watch my sad sorry excuse for a life every night to then report to his buddies.

He's been beside me for at least three months now, which is about the time I started year 12. Sometimes I think he's a mute because he never talks to me, and I mostly try to avoid talking to anybody at all, rather than just him. I'm scared of talking to him and it all turns out to be a massive joke that Aaron Tate set up. Aaron is the most popular boy in year twelve, its cliché I know but he has the looks that puts him up there with Channing Tatum.

I feel brave tonight though.

I climb off my double bed and stop in front of my large oval mirror, I watch as the girl stares back at me with wide eyes, my light golden brown hair sits just below my shoulders, I've always hated my hair, all because the other kids in primary school used to tease me saying it was the colour of baby vomit. My green eyes water as I poke the fresh bruise forming on my wrist, it's a perfect match to my dads fingers as they wrapped around my wrist to stop me from escaping to the safety of my bedroom. I give up on studding my appearance and turn to the window.

His heads cocked on an angle, watching me study myself in the mirror. I walk over to the window and whisper, "What's your name?"

The shadows of the tree branches cover his face, stopping me from watching his reaction, but I can see his eyes slightly open in shock and I mentally cheer inside my head because I did something unexpected.

He hesitates for a moment before answering, "You can call me your future husband,"

My eyes widen in shock at his abruptness and my mouth opens to object, but he beats me to it.

"I'm joking, I'm joking, no need to get you knickers in a knot, you can call me Hunter, I've always liked that name you know,"

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