Note:
This story will be told in segments. Event by event.
Chapter 1 [Only Friend]
Grace had one, and only one thing to look forward to. Which was Micah. Her only friend that excepted her. Grace had a tendency to be... Different. Be... Herself. Which shouldn't be bad. But people judged her because of it. She was quiet, wore a shirt that hung off her frigid body, 3 sizes too big. Her pants, being floods, had gone out of style ages ago. But Grace liked what she wore, almost for the simple fact that was all she had. Micah was a tall, sideswept hair, lightning blue eyes, and was simply gorgeous. Micah had lots of friends, but Grace was his best. Grace and him met in 1st grade, hitting it off immediately. Not only was Micah gorgeous, he was an amazing friend. Every time Grace was confronted about her injuries, Micah would stand up for her. Saying it all happened in some freak accident, getting crazier and crazier as time progressed. One dark evening, Grace returned home after another torturous day of 6th grade. Her father, who she was forced to call 'sir' or 'master' , had been drinking. She walked through the front door, backpack and all, letting the beat up door shut behind her. Graces mother was at work, working at Walmart, as an inventory worker. Which is the only income supporting their dysfunctional family. Grace walked past the cluttered family room, mainly used for storage, and into the kitchen, slightly brighter, and slightly less cluttered. "Hello sir" Grace remarked in a respectful, butt sarcastic tone. "Hi." her father said, with no feeling. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that!?" her father said, back towards Grace. "I'm not looking out you Father." Grace could tell her had been drinking by the tone of his voice. "God damn it! Don't smart off to me if you want to make it tomorrow." Grace walked away, knowing she would soon be in great pain, once again. "Don't walk away from me while I'm talking to you, bitch! That's it. Get in her. NOW" her father screamed from the other room, slurring his words. So Grace did as she was told, and took small steps, approaching the drunken man she calls father. Right as she was arms length away from him, she felt a searing pain come across her face. Although she's felt this pain many times in the past, it came to her as a surprise. Grace immediately guessed he had punched her, and fell to the ground, attempting to avoid the second round. But he followed, hitting twice as hard and twice as much. Punch after punch, her weeping began to increase. The hitting seemed to get harder, more intense. And with one last punch to the head, her eyes went black. Then, her father stood up, left the room, happy and seemingly happy with himself. Minutes later, he walked into the room, were her unconscious daughter lay, motionless.
