Pure Massacre // Billie Joe

(5)

I flip my head over, gathering my hair to put into a high pony tail. I had finished my homework, and now had to start my chores. Paul wouldn't be home for a while, meaning I was happily by myself. This was my routine for week days.

I pull off my jacket, leaving me in my white t-shirt and ripper denim jeans. I didn't have many clothes, which meant my outfits were simple- and repeated. Paul didn't think I needed many clothes, and even told me I looked better without them which obviously made me extremely uncomfortable.

According to the time it is now, Paul would be finishing his drinks and getting ready to leave the bar. I was hoping that he didn't bring anyone with him. From past experiences, my step father's friends are not the nicest people. They were perverted men who couldn't keep their eyes or hands off of me.

I grab a garbage bag from the kitchen, and begin to walk around the small apartment, chucking in the junk. I picked up various items that made normal appearances here including beer cans, cigarette butts, used condoms and take away boxes. A shiver runs down my spine as I shove the full garbage bag in the trash.

I begin to wash my hands at the sink, hoping to wash away any disease I might of contracted from touching anything in this apartment. My heart drops as I heart the front door open, footsteps soon becoming louder.

"Faith?!" Paul yells, walking into the kitchen. I whip around, surprised from the angry expression plastered on his face. Behind him, another man appears. A sly smirk on his face.

"Y- Yes?" I stutter, trying to hold my anxiety together.

"I hope I heard wrong when the neighbours tell me you got dropped home from school!" He bellows, stepping forward.

My mouth parts. Shit. How could I have been so stupid to actually have Billie Joe give me a ride?!

"I- It was a friend from school" I look down, fidgeting with my hands together.

"Cut the bullshit" He spits, pulling me forward by my shirt. I stumble forward, a yelp escaping my lips.

"I'm telling the truth!" I squint my eyes shut, already feeling Pauls angry breathe on my face.

"You know where lying gets you?!" He shouts, throwing me down on the floor.

I land with a thud, my head hitting the hardwood floor. I begin to back away, ignoring the throbbing pain throughout my body.

"It gets you in trouble!" He groans, sending a kick to my stomach. I hold my arms around me, feeling the air knocked out. The tears begin to sting my eyes, attempting to escape.

I ignore the strange man laughing behind Paul, not caring that I was getting seriously injured. What a fucked up world we live in. People don't even feel safe in their own homes anymore, the place where the heart is meant to be.

I had been beaten by Paul before. It wasn't an abnormal occurrence, but this was the worst. He mostly would kick me once, punch me once, slap me once, but I don't think I can handle this one. He's never been this angry at me before. He always made me promise to never tell anyone about how he treats me, and he was manipulative enough to get me to agree.

I needed someone to rely on. Someone to help get me the fuck out of this life I was living. No one deserved to be abused every day, not even the worst person. The victim is always tricked into thinking it's their fault, when it's not. But I can't help feel it's my fault. I should be strong enough to fight back, but I can't.

The familiar fuzzy feeling returns to my head, and soon I'm drifting in and out of consciousness. The beating had started to slow down, and soon it had finally stopped. I squint my eyes shut, not daring to move a muscle.