A Trophy Father's Trophy... Daughter

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I woke up to a crash Tuesday morning. Startled, I jumped out of bed, but then realized it was just my hungover father trying to make himself something to eat. I sigh. More broken dishes. 

I began to get ready for school. I had to be in homeroom in about an hour. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, and undressed slowly.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I was disgusted. As always. I was never pleased with my appearence. It started at a young age too. 3rd grade to be exact. It sounds dumb, but bullying affected me a lot. Beginning in 3rd grade I was called fat, ugly, loser, and other names. They weren't that bad because it was only 3rd grade, but it still started to tear down my self-confidence. As the years went on, the names got worse. The taunting became every day. I had less and less friends as time passed. Elementry school was bad memories for me. Then 7th grade came. Middle school. It wasn't horrific, but it wasn't good either. I was still taunted and called names. I still had no self-esteem. But I was beginning to make friends from other districts. (The townships all merged together in middle school and high school.) But then 8th grade came. Over the summer I had tried to make myself look a little better, getting contacts, learning how to do my makeup, and trying a new wardrobe. But it didn't help. If anything, it was worse. Names were thrown at me back and forth. Fat, ugly, whore, skank, slut,(I had never slept with anyone or done anything to that extent) and just horrific things. I was pushed into lockers and tripped constantly. Food was shoved into me. People picking fights with the "emo girl with no future." My self-confidence was destroyed completely. And that was on top of everything with my dad at home. That was the worst year of my life. It's stuck in my mind throughout the years, and to this day I can't look into the mirror and even think that I look decent.

I walked into the shower and let the water pour down gently on my skin. I watched it slide down my scarred arms. Yes, my scarred arms. I cut. Well, I used to. I haven't since that year in 8th grade. Emo was another name I was branded as. But they didn't know the pain I went through. They never will. But I looked away and continued my shower. When I got out I dried my hair, and pulled it back into a loose ponytail with my bangs hanging down. I pulled my Sleeping with Sirens t-shirt over my head and my favorite ripped skinny jeans. I grabbed my eyeline and drew it on thick around the top and bottom tearlines of my eyes. I lined my liquid eyeliner heavy on my top eyelid, and used light and dark brown eyeshadow on the remainder of my eyelid. I put on my foundation and bronzer and my lip gloss. My mask was now complete. I laced up my converse and ran out the door grabbing an apple and my keys as I walked past my father trying to drink his coffee without spilling it, not saying a word. 

"Hunter. How ya doing?" Gracelin was my best friend. I met her freshman year of high school and she stuck with me. She knew my life. Well, most of it anyway. Actually, no she didn't. She knew my past, but she didn't know about my father and the abuse I endured at home. She knew I struggled with depression and that I didn't have a good relationship with my father, but she didn't know how bad it really was. I was too afraid to tell her. Or anyone.

"Oh, I'm okay. Just tired. Another long night I guess." I struggled a small smile at her and she gave me a huge grin in return. She hugged me tightly and walked away to her homeroom. And another day began. 

I drifted through my classes. I did what I had to do. I wasn't a bad student. I wasn't exceptional, but I was average. In my normal classes I just sat back and kept to myself. I did my work with a glazed expression, and left when it was over. But then I had art. Art class was the only class where I could focus all my energy into something and actually do something I was kind of proud of. I let myself go. I let my hands guide my pencil or paintbrush across the paper, and let them have a mind of their own. For a short period, I forgot the rest of the world. It was my 40 minute break from reality. But then I left, and finished out my day with that same glazed over expression.

I walked over to my car, and drove home, wondering what exactly was waiting for me today...