Never Broken

*** TRIGGER WARNING ***

This book contains subjects that some may find triggering including graphic violence, sexual abuse/assault, incest, child abuse, pedophilia, self harm, and suicide.

Chapter 1

Rhenn

I wish I could say I had a good childhood. That we were once a happy family. But I can't. The truth is that it has always been miserable. My mother and father were high school sweethearts. They married right after graduation. At first it was good, according to mom but over time something changed in my father. He started to resent the missed opportunities he had, and he would take his frustration out of her. By the time they were in their twenties he was already drinking heavily and had become abusive toward her. He blamed her for holding him back. He was captain of the football team, prom king, Mr popularity. She was his 'number one girl' throughout senior year, although not his only girl. But she was blind to it all. She loved him. And at that time, he treated her well, so well it ended up in a marriage at a very young age. He didn't mind. He was going to take over his dad's business anyway, what did he need to go to college for? But when his dad sold his business to a chain, he started to blame mom for pressuring him to marry her right away – even if it was his own idea. From there it just snowballed. He lost his job, moms' fault. His car got repossessed, moms' fault. Never once would he thought to blame his own laziness. He ended up with a factory job. Then he started stopping at the bar on the way home for a 'few' drinks. He would come home yelling about the usual made up indiscretions my mom had done that day, and it would turn violent. By the time I came along this was already a set cycle. Mom tells me it was good for a short time after I was born, but by the time I was 3 it was back to the same cycle. Mom would make sure I was in my room and would tell me to stay quiet when daddy came home. I didn't understand at the time, but I remember the fear she had when it got close to 7pm when he would usually come home. I would hear them yelling and things breaking regularly. I would hear dad go to the couch and turn on the tv that was my indicator it was okay to come down. I would find mom in the kitchen cleaning up whatever had broken with tears still in her eyes. I would silently help her tidy everything back up. At the time I had no idea this was different to every other family out there. Not until we got new neighbours the summer of my third year of school.

Before that summer I was never allowed to have friends. Dad made sure I was as isolated as possible, and by the time I was eight everyone at school thought I was weird anyway. I was never invited to birthday parties, and certainly never invited to any sleepovers. Unfortunately, dad also required me to be there when he got home like a 'good daughter' should be. I was usually doing my homework or watching tv when he got home stinking of whiskey and beer. I remember the first time I was the target of his rage. He didn't agree with my subject choice for a project for school. Mom tried to intervene and got backhanded so hard she fell to the floor. I was too in shock staring at her sobbing and clutching her cheek on the kitchen floor, that I didn't see his hand flying for my face next. It took a full five seconds for the pain to register, by then he was in my face screaming at me with spittle flying onto my face. I tried to back up away from him, but he grabbed my upper arms with a force so hard I let out an involuntary cry and shook me violently. My instinct took over and I stomped on his foot hard making him let go while swearing profusely at me. This time I got the back hand. I stumbled backward, tasting blood from my lip before turning and running out the door. Tears were blurring my vision, but I headed to the tall grass that lined the back of the properties of our street. I hit the grass and kept running until my lungs burned. When I stopped, I looked around. I was far enough away from the house that I could barely see it from here. I looked the other way and saw a singular great tree in the middle of the grass. I made my way to it before sinking to my knees and screaming until my throat was sore. I laid down in between a group of exposed roots and quietly cried.