Scarred // michael clifford

Drunk Idiot

SOOOOOOOOOO hello! Um yeah!

Brooklynn POV
"Oh Brooke!" I heard the malicious voice of my step father. "Get out here now!" My body cringed at the thought of having to doing anything for him again. My legs, which felt as if we're sticks compared to before, slowly moved towards the door. My thinning hands opened the silver knob to see Seth lazily laying upon a sofa. Half of a foot of his beer belly stuck out of his somewhat shrinking shirt. "Hurry up and get me another beer! And fix your outfit up a bit, you look like your swimming in it."

I looked down and the horrific, provocative uniform he threw at me to wear; all my other cloths seemed to vanish from my closet, along with everything, but a light and mattress in my bedroom.

"Maybe if you fed me for once." I mumbled for only myself to hear.

"What was that?" His voice increased in intensity. I kept my mouth shut and tried to walk down the stairs with no damage. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. He stood up, surprisingly quick for a man in his health. "Speak up bitch." His cold hard hand smack across my cheek, only increasing the shades of purples and blues imprinted on my cheekbone. "Grab a protein bar or something; you may be my slave, but I need you to live a little longer." He spat while pinching my noticeable ribs.

I continued my way to the fridge without another peep.
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I hardly slept. Reoccurring nightmares and thoughts just filled my head. How did I let this happen? I should've known he was messing with me, but I left a note. Michael should've found me. Right? What the hell, he probably doesn't care. Just like Seth told me, 'No one loves you. No one is coming to save you. Your screams and pleas are heard by no one. No one.'
I guess I'll just have to keep living like this, or maybe I'll die before I ever get help. Some days I pray for that to be true.

My stomach growled for the 100th time today. Eating maybe 100 calories a day, wasn't the healthiest I've been. My hands traced the walls and the grooves I made to recognized how long I've been here touch my fingertips. 5 days. 6 nights. Tonight being the 6th. I missed fresh air. I missed the small quiet sounds of traffic. Or the loud ones. I just wanted to feel something again. Feel alive.

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

What?

Tap.

It was coming from the window. Rain? I lift my body up and look out the 2 story window. No sigh of rain. Maybe my mind is messing with me. I turn away from the window.

Tap.

I rush over and look down at the ground. A man stood in the dim light.

"Is that?" I whispered to myself. The window was locked and I needed the bust it open.

My heart was pounding as I slowly turn my door knob. Drunk idiot. Seth was passed out on the couch. It was too much of a risk to go down the stairs, knowing their squeaky nature. I looked around for a key, rapidly opening the drawers as quietly as possible. I found some type of envelope opener. It'll do. I tip toe back into my room and close the door. I almost leap over to the window. My hand won't stop shaking with anticipation. I try every angle to pick the lock. I finally hear the swear sound of a click, and I frantically open the window. Cool air hits my sweat covered face.

"Michael."
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Am I evil or.??