BOOK 1
Veronica Garcia, a smart and beautiful fifteen-year-old, had endured enough of her stepfather's abuse. One fateful night, during his drunken rage, she seized her chance to escape, fleeing to her abuelo's mansion for solace. However, her newfo...
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Veronica's POV
Home used to be a place I loved. Coming home would be my favourite part of the day, home used to be a place I loved. Coming home would be the highlight of my day. Never would I have ever thought the sound of shouting and glass shattering would become the new normal.
~~~
As the shrill sound of my alarm pierced through the tranquillity of my morning, dragging me out of the blissful realms of sleep, I groggily reached over to silence it. My hand fumbled for a few seconds before finally locating the offending device. With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly forced my eyes to open, greeted by the dim light filtering through the curtains, signalling the start of another day.
Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled towards the bedside table where my phone lay charging. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I picked it up and instinctively tapped the screen, illuminating the room with its soft glow. The familiar lock screen greeted me, displaying the time and date in bold letters, a reminder of the impending responsibilities of the day ahead. With a mixture of resignation and curiosity, I unlocked the device, revealing a cascade of notifications vying for my attention.
My bleary eyes scanned through the messages and alerts, each one representing a different aspect of my digital life clamoring for acknowledgment. Emails from teachers, reminders of assignments due, and group chat notifications from friends peppered the screen, forming a chaotic mosaic of obligations and social engagements. Despite the early hour, the virtual world seemed alive and bustling, mirroring the hectic pace of the physical realm awaiting me beyond the confines of my bedroom.
7:02am
As I pivoted in response to the faint rustling, Sparky's curious eyes met mine, his fur shimmering in the soft light. He stood there, a faithful companion for four years, a gift from my mother on my eleventh birthday. That memory, tinged with both joy and sorrow, hung heavy in the air, as it marked the final gesture from my mother before her tragic passing a mere week later. The weight of her absence lingered, but in Sparky's gaze, I found a glimmer of comfort amidst the pain, a reminder of the enduring love that transcended her physical presence.
The memory of my birthday is forever tainted by the shadow of loss and guilt. After my mother's tragic death, I couldn't bring myself to celebrate another year passing. My stepfather, once kind and caring, became a haunting presence in my life. He shifted blame onto me, convinced that my existence was the cause of my mother's downfall. In his eyes, I was the barrier to their happiness, a constant reminder of what could have been. The weight of his accusations crushed me, leaving me trapped in a cycle of sorrow and self-doubt, unable to escape the grip of his resentment.
The echo of footsteps outside my bedroom door jolts me out of my reverie. With a shaky hand, I brush imaginary dust off my clothes, a reflex born from nerves and apprehension. Each step closer feels like impending doom, a reminder of the looming presence that waits just beyond the threshold. Sweat beads on my brow as I steel myself for whatever comes next, unsure of what lies on the other side of that door but certain that it won't bring solace or peace.
As Ricardo staggers into my room, his movements clumsy and unsteady, the stench of cheap booze fills the air like a suffocating cloud. His hand grips the nearly empty bottle, his lips stained by its bitter contents. It's a scene I've witnessed too many times before – his drunken stupor casting a shadow over our fragile existence. I brace myself for the slurred words and unpredictable behaviour that often accompany his inebriation, a familiar dance of discomfort and fear. In his intoxicated state, he's a stranger to me, a distorted reflection of the man he once was, lost to the numbing embrace of alcohol.
Ricardo's slurred words slice through the tense air, heavy with anger and accusation. "W-what are you still doing here?" he slurs, his tone laced with bitterness.
My heart clenches in my chest as I muster the courage to respond, my voice barely above a whisper. "I-I was just about to leave, Dad," I stammer, my words tinged with a mixture of fear and resignation. Every syllable feels like a tightrope walk, balancing on the edge of his volatile mood, unsure of what reaction awaits me.
Ricardo storms towards me, his steps thunderous and intimate. Too close, his presence suffocates. With a cruel yank, he grabs my hair, my yelp echoing in the tense silence. I struggle, hands trembling as I try to free myself from his painful grip.
"Don't call me that, whore! I will never be your father!" he screams, his words piercing my ears like shards of glass. Trembling, I manage to utter, "I-I'm sorry! Please let go!" My voice is gentle, laced with fear and desperation, hoping to appease him and avoid the pain of his wrath once more.
"Sorry what?" he growls, yanking my hair even tighter, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from me.
"I'm s-sorry, sir," I stammer, my voice barely audible through the fear.
With a final, brutal tug, he releases me, sending me crashing to the hard wooden floor below. His laughter echoes in the room, a chilling reminder of his cruel power over me.
"God, you're so pathetic," he hisses with contempt, his words cutting deep. "And stop goddamn stuttering, it's so fucking annoying."
As I attempt to rise, he grabs my jaw harshly, the force leaving a bruise without a doubt.
"If you ever raise your voice at me again," he warns through gritted teeth, his grip tightening, "I can guarantee that you'll never see the light of day again."
"I'm sorry, sir," I plead desperately, the fear palpable in my voice. "It won't happen again."
"It's better not," he retorts, his slurred speech continuing as before, a menacing undertone lingering in the air.
~~~
☑️☑️ EDITED
Thankyou for choosing to read this book! I promise you it does get better after a while, I hope you carry on to read this book in the future.
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