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I wake up to the sounds of yelling from my father. This isn't abnormal in my household; my father wasn't the most kindhearted man. I get up and stretch. I glance outside and then I realize why he's yelling. It has to be past 10. I've slept in. It's only a matter of time before my door opens, and I have to face the man that makes my life a living hell. My door swings open.
"Y/n! Why aren't you outside yet?! And why aren't the dishes clean? You're the eldest, these are your responsibilities."
The only thing he's correct about is I am the eldest. I have three siblings, two younger brothers and a younger sister. I would probably have more if my mother didn't die during the birth of my sister. I used to hate her for that; for leaving me with the asshole that is my father, but I've since forgiven her. I don't blame her for leaving. My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp slap.
"Don't just stare at me, answer me when I speak to you!"
"Apologies, Father. Would you like me to get started?" I reply blankly.
"Right away. You have a lot to catch up on. Start on the dishes, you were supposed to finish those last night. Then you need to make breakfast and start on the chores outside. Go, now."
I begin walking out but stop when he says one last thing
"You know I love you right?
"Yes, sir." I say, giving my best smile before turning away because my eyes were starting to water due to the burning on my cheek.
I head to the kitchen to begin washing the dishes. I try to zone out to escape the searing pain in my cheek, but he got me pretty good. I know better than to zone out when he's speaking to me, but I just can't help it sometimes. Like right now. I call it auto-pilot. My mind is blank, and I'm just doing. It mostly happens when I'm stressed and am just trying to get through the day. Its just numbing. I wash the dishes through blurry, secondary perspective until I'm done. On to the next thing.
*TIME SKIP*
And done. Finally. I'm so exhausted. Its dark out, maybe around seven. I head inside and sit at the dinner table. My Father said he would make dinner tonight, which was a shock. He said he had an announcement to make. He's prepared potato soup, which wasn't horrible. Its clear my father hasn't spent much of his time cooking. As we eat everything is oddly silent, until my father speaks up.
"(Y/n), you've have become a woman. Its time to start helping out the family more."
That made me twitch with anger. Helping out more? Does he not realize all that I do for him? Is he that entitled? In my opinion I've been a woman long before I turned 18. I needed to grow up fast to survive. Nevertheless, I answer politely.
"What do you mean Father?" I say, trying to conceal my anger.
"I have...some friends. You met them when you were younger. But these friends have...taken a liking to you. They have offered to pay me large sums of money if you preformed some favors for them." He said, looking uncomfortable. It was clear he was choosing his words wisely.
I shuddered at the though of having to do my chores, look after my siblings, and do some random men's chores on top of it.
"More chores, Father?"
"No no, other types of favors. Physical favors."
It was at that moment my very heart stopped. My own Father wanted to pimp me out to his friends who were his age or older? I've had enough. I snapped.
"Are you serious!? You want me to be a prostitute?!" I yell, jumping up from the table
"Don't you dare speak to me in that tone! I am your Father! If I ask you to do something, YOU DO IT." He yelled, stepping towards me.
"No! I'm done! I'll never do that! Not for you, and not for anybody-!"
I'm cut off by the feeling of a fist hitting my eye. Then again. Then again. Then again. Over and over, I feel him pummeling me. I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't see. Everything goes black.
*TIME SKIP*
I wake up in my room, in unimaginable amounts of pain. I can't see out of my left eye. I can't stay here. I need to leave; I need to leave now. People in this town know me, and more importantly they know my Father. If I tried to live independently, I'd be sent back. I sit and think until I remember the revolution. I don't get out much, but I've heard the rumors. An army fighting against the British oppressors. My Father hated it all, said it was effortless. There was one man Father hated the most, John Laurens. My Father was a horrible racist and thought all of Laurens's ideas were nothing but "Retarded dreaming". But because of this hateful talk I had a way out. Only one issue. I'm a woman. And women aren't allowed in war.
My hope slowly flooded from me as I began to cry. I grabbed my hair and sobbed. I was stuck for the rest of my life, being used by older men for money. This is my life now. Then I realized, people don't know my voice, just my body and my dress. These could be altered, and I could slip away into the hours of the night.
First, my hair. My (h/c) hair was waist length, and that was not going to work. I grabbed a brush from my dresser and smashed my mirror. I grabbed the largest shard and got to work. By the end I had a tiny ponytail. This would work. My long hair always got in the way anyways. Now my chest. I grabbed the bandages from my dresser that I constantly needed. This would work. I remove my shirt carefully because of my injuries and slowly start wrapping. At the end of it I look brand new. It was slightly harder to breath, but I could manage. A smile creeped onto my face. This was a start.
Now I need clothes, and a lot of them. I don't plan on coming back, ever. My brothers were 17, but taller and larger than me. I could fit into the things they've outgrown. I do all the laundry, so I know where it is. I grab a bag and fill it with the clothes. I than pick out an outfit to wear as of now. I need food and money. I make 80% of the meals, so I know what I can bring. Money, I can get from my Fathers closet. I know where he keeps it, but I needed to be quiet.
I place my bag by the front door and creep into his room, being extremely careful. Its still hard to see out of my left eye, so I need to be careful not to bump into anything. I sneak past him and into the closet. I feel around for the shoebox the moneys in. Once I feel it, I grab it and swiftly exit the closet. As I'm leaving the room I stop, turn to my "Father", and spit on him. I've wanted to do that for so long. I walk out of his room, head to the front door, and exit the house. No going back now. New York is about a mile away; I'll be there by dawn.
I start down the path. I don't look back. I won't ever look back again.
Welcome tø my story! Lafayette will be introduced next chapter :D! 1315 words!
