𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐀

01

❝When did it end? All the enjoyment...❞

—— ༻𐬽✧𐬽༺ ——

TW: abuse & slight mentions of an eating disorder

KIARA
The sound of the drinking glass shattering caused a lump to form in my throat. My hands began to tremble as all the eyes in the kitchen turned to look at me. Tears pricked at my eyes as my foster dad pulled himself up from the table and walked over to me. He clenched his jaw as he stared at me for a few moments. "Are you fucking stupid?" He spat.

"I... I'm so sorry, it was an accident. I didn't mean to." My shaky voice responded to the man stood in front of me. I could hear the small laughs from my two foster brothers that were still sat in the kitchen - they clearly found this whole situation funny already.

The man that was stood in front of me looked down at me with such hatred. Out of nowhere, he lunged towards my jacket and grasped onto both of my arms in a tight grip. I tried my best not to let my fear show, but the tears that were now clouding my vision were probably giving it away.

My foster dad stared at me for a few more seconds before slightly loosening his grip, letting one of his hands drop to his side. For a brief second, I genuinely thought he was going to let me off. Oh, how wrong I was. He rapidly brought his fist up and punched me straight across the face. I scrunched my face up in pain as I felt a familiar metallic taste fill my mouth.

"Pick it up. Every little shard." He said in a furious tone before releasing my jacket and pushing me backwards aggressively. He walked back over to the table where Luke and Miles were both sat with amused smirks on their faces. Somehow, seeing a nine year old child being punched across the face is humorous to some people.

I shakily dropped down to my knees onto the cold, wooden floor, gently holding my palm to the side of my face where he had punched me. The familiar feeling of blood dropped down from my nose as I wiped my eyes due to a few tears escaping. I began to pick up the tiny shards of glass that were now scattered across the floor. I winced as I felt the glass slightly cutting into my fingers and palms. The amount of pain I felt in this moment was almost unbearable, mainly because of how much force he punched me with. My vision was becoming blurry as my head pounded. I finally managed to pick up the last few shards of glass from the floor and walk over to the bin.

After I dropped the glass into the bin, I quickly stumbled over to the stairs and tried to get to my room. I closed my bedroom door as I sat down on the floor with my back against it. I buried my face in between my knees that were pulled up to my chest. The throbbing pain in my head and the stinging sensation that now filled my hands was enough to let all the tears that were building up behind my eyes fall down my face. My body shook as my quiet sobs filled the room.