Never let her go

Chapter 6

Lucy POV

⚠️Trigger warning: mention of violence.⚠️

I walked inside my house, closing the door behind me. I tried to be as quiet as I could, hoping that he had already passed out.

I was just about to start climbing the steps to the second floor when a voice stopped me.
My insides twisted into a painful knot.

“If it isn’t daddy’s little working girl.” he said, slurring his words.

I turned around to try and speak, but a fist to my stomach stopped me. I bent forward, my breath escaping me.

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch.” he growled in my ear. “How the fuck dare you make a decision without talking to me?!”

His fist made  contact with my ribs, and I fell down on my knees. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head up so I would look at him. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. Screaming only made it worse.

“You will give me each and every penny you earn.” he growled in my face. “If you don’t, my friend Brian would gladly pay you another visit.”

My heart stopped beating.

No.

Not him!

Please not him!

He smirked when he saw the panicked look on my face. “That’s what I thought.”

He let go of my hair so abruptly that I found myself laying underneath his feet. That gave him an opportunity to kick me in the ribs one more time. This time I was sure I heard a crack.

I curled up, protecting my head, expecting another hit from him. But it never came.

“Clean yourself up, bitch.” he said as he stumbled away. “You have work in the morning.”

I stood up carefully, wincing from the pain. I started climbing the stairs carefully.

When I got into my room, I closed my door and locked it. I walked into my bathroom and raised my shirt.

The area around my ribs was red. Tomorrow there will definitely be a bruise. I tried feeling around them carefully, trying to figure out if he broke them again. The pain made me want to throw up. I eventually gave up and decided to take a shower. I will check again tomorrow. I can’t handle any more pain today.

I was so glad that I had the bathroom to myself.

When my mom died, John started punishing me by taking stuff away from me. Whenever I would do something that he didn’t approve of, or when I didn’t do a chore correctly, he would take something away. My toys, my books, my clothes, basically every item from my room that he could get his hands on. He began hitting me about a year later.

Thanks to his punishment, there is only a bed and a small closet in my room now. I have a pillow and a blanket. I have a couple of outfits. I have some books I managed to hide from him. I have everything I need for school. And I have my own bathroom.

If it wasn’t adjacent to my room, he would take that away from me as well.

But I am so lucky he can’t.

Our house doesn’t have a basement or an attic. If it did, I am pretty sure he would have locked me in there sometimes. Maybe he would even make me stay there, who knows.

Again, I am lucky we don’t have either.

I stepped out of the shower and carefully dried my body. I grabbed a painkiller and went to bed. As soon as my head touched the pillow, I was out like a light.