His Island, His Rules...

Chapter 15: Abusive people always play the victim.

⚠️Mentions of abusive household⚠️
I'm here for anyone if they need to talk <3

Love you all loveleysss! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Raven Pov:

When I woke up, it was barely light. I thought I'd had, a really fucked up nightmare. It was, that Peter and I had a massive fight, and I left Neverland. But when I looked around, I saw that I wasn't in Neverland. Back, in Leeds. 10 minutes from where I grew up. That place. These people.

Roundhay Park was the place I used to go, when I needed to clear my head. My safe space. The place I felt like I wasn't against anyone's better judgement. But now I was back, back in this place, it felt like torture. Terrible torture. The memories flooded back to me.

I sat up and onlooked into the distance, for a long while. A very, Long while. I think I lost track of time; the next time I came back into a conscious state, it was a hell of a lot lighter outside than it was before. People would probably start arriving soon enough. I have only had contact with boys and pirates, for 6 and a ½ fucking months. This is gonna be fun.

I stood up, and got off the bench to start to make my way towards the entrance to Roundhay Park. The gates were open, so I walked out. I knew where I was going, but didn't know ig I should regret it or not. I ended at the door, within 15 minutes, due to the slow speed Iw as walking, or should I say, trudging miserably. Fuck. What was I doing? From what I knew, it was something of 7:45 A.M. I could hear yhem already. Screaming, yelling, smashing stuff.

I went to walk away, but my legs had become immobile. And my arm raised, and rapped the wooden door 6 times. And suddenly, the arguing stopped. And I heard stamps advancing toward the front door. Oh boy. It was him.

Suddenly, the door swung open. And that is when I say him. My father, 6'4, towering above me, wearing a white vest that was covered in some form of liquid substance. Most likely whiskey.

"What, are you after, street rat. We don't give shit away h-"

"I-" I started.

He interrupted me, "CLARA GET TO THIS FUCKING FRONT DOOR. NOW!" He bellowed, staring at me, with shock.

"What?" My mother sighed. "What, Jacob, is so impor-" She stopped. She gasped.

"Hi." I said, feebly.

Before either of them said a thing, I was dragged inside. "You have been gone, for half a year!" Hissed my father, he was livid with anger, foaming at the moath, showering me with spit in his anger. He was drunk. I could smell it in his breath. "AND HI IS ALL YOU HAVE TO FUCKING SAY FOR YOURSELF?!"

"I'm, I'm sorry, father! I am!" I just g9t back and I was already backing out of the way. He was advancing towards me.

My mother knew what he was going to do. So did I. He began undoing his belt. "Jacob, Jacob no! She just got back! She obviously ran away from you! You are a drunken monster! Let her be! She's your daughter!"

"CLARA! SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!" He turned and slapped her. Had with the back of his hand, across the tight side of her face. He turned and punched her in the face. "DON'T YOU EVER, TALK TO ME EITH THAT DISRESPECT AGAIN, YOU WORTHLESS CUNT! YOU FUCKING GOT IT?" My mother was writhing on the floor in pain.

"Yes, Jacob. Yes I got it. Sorry my love."

"Good." He slurred. "As for you, you runaway good-for-nothing, you're gonna pay!"

And with that, the belt struck me. Hard. All over my body. It stung bad. Really bad. Then he started to punch me. I was covered in blood, crying like a child.

"I'm sorry! Father I'm sorry!" I screamed, crying hard.

"You fucking better be, bitch! You and your mother give me so much fucking grief, and you wonder why I need to teach you lessons."

I didn't say it. I was tempted to, though. I was very tempted to say 'the abusive person always acts like the one being abused. Always plays the victim.' It's true!

"Jacob, let her go! Let her be!" Mumbled my mother.

"Fine. Get up them stairs, out of my fucking sight, brat!" He grabbed me, and shoved me up and pushed me toward the stairs. I ran up them, crying loudly. I ran into the bathroom and locked the old door.

I walked shakily over to the corner and sunk down to the floor, holding myself as I cried. I wish, I had never left Neverland! But I'll stay. I'll give father the benefit of the doubt. But this beating was not nice. It never was. My back hurt, my stomach hurt, my shoulder blades and my face too. Mu mother's were bound to hurt as well. But one thing, that I could not get my head around, was that, the very fucking fact, that my mother, Clara Dennis, hated me just as much as my father, Jacob Dennis did, and yet, she'd told him to lay off with beating me. Weird.

I was sat, crying and shakinh like crazy, having a whole-ass anxiety attack, when I heard my parents begin to argue again. It was horrible. It scared me. It scared me more than you'll ever know.

Clara Pov:

I hated my daughter. We didn't want her. When Raven was conceived, it was two drunks with drunken sex. When I told Jacob, he beat me. Told me it was my fault. And that he didn't want it. But would not move out because 'he was here first!'

I didn't want it either. But I wanted to see if I could handle being a mother. So I kept her. And Jacob agreed to stay and let me keep the baby because everything I do, I need to run by him first. Even if it's just going to the shop for tampons. Like, he is horrible all the time! But he's my husband, so I need to stay with him. If I don't, he'd probably kill me.

But when Raven turned up at the door, he was livid. He thought she'd gone forever. And when she was not there that morning, he drank himself silly, down at the pub and spent all our rent money on beer, whiskey scotch and the likes. His friends had told me that he was ecstatic that Raven was finally out of his house and that the fucking brat had better stay thr fuck away.

"Honey, I'm sorry for defying you and back-chatting. It won't happen again." I told him quietly, getting up.

"You are too darn right it won't happen again. Because you know what happens if it does?" He growled back at me, picking up the largest bottle of whiskey I'd ever seen.

"Yes. I know. You would hang me from the ceiling by my feet and beat me until I was unrecognisable."

"The fact you know, the consequences for your actions is good. Show's you have finally learnt your lesson." He took a long slug out of the whiskey bottle and looked back at me with misty eyes.

"Do you think you have maybe had enough whiskey, darling?" I asked, slowly walking towards the sink. "Do you want dome water?"

He scoffed at me, "Water? You having a fucking laugh, you stupid dipshit? No I don't need any fucking water! You get out my sight as well! YOU ARE ALL SO UNGRATEFUL TO ME! I DO EVERYTHING IN THIS HOME! IN THIS HOUSEHOLD! AND AS FOR YOU, RAVEN, YEAH, I KNOW YOUR SELFISH LITTLE ASS CAN HEAR ME! WE DID NOT EVEN WANT YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE! YOU ARE AN UNWANTED MISTAKE WHO IS A WASTE OF TIME AND SPACE!"

I listened to him. I walked upstairs to our bedroom. It always smelled of stale sweat and liquor. I hated it. It often had the smell of blood. Rusty and salt-like, from the amount of times Jacob's been brought in covered in blood, and how many times he's beat me in here. I could hear him speaking to himself like a lunatic downstairs. Then I heard him go out. He probably wouldn't be back until like, 2 or 3 A.M. At the earliest. So I was on my own with the brat in the bathroom. Ugh.

Sometimes, I just want everyone to disappear. Or for me to jut mysteriously disappear and die without a trace.