𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎 - Isabella has always felt empty, lost. She has been abused her whole life by her mother, Cara and her stepfather, Jack. Cara ran away when Isabella was just 4 years old, never telling any of the Romanos.But when Cara d...
A house is supposed to be home, it's supposed to be a safe place, but for me it's anything but a safe place. Every day I feel fear for what will happen later that night. Every god damn day.
After my mum died I was left with jack, my stepdad. I was abused by my mum and jack before but it's just gotten worse since she died. So now I fear every night going back home.
I'm on the porch of my own personal hell, walking in, all I smell is alcohol and all I see is empty cans all over the floor for me to clean up later.
I try to be the quietest I can when I'm walking in but I'm obviously still noticed by jack and I hear him slurring over his words when he shouts at me.
"You little slut!! You better get here right now or I swear!"
My heart was already going crazy and now it's even worse, I walk into the living room where he is stood, waiting for me.
"Your late. I bet you were off fucking some guy like the slut you are." he says to me while I'm just looking at the floor in silence.
"I wasn't sir." I whisper with fear clear in my voice. I hate being treated like this but it's hard to stand up for myself when I know how many injuries he has given me.
"What was that?!" Jack shouts and I flinch.
I regret even saying anything at this point so I just decide in my head to not say anything.
Jack throws the first hit into my ribs, which he always goes for and hurts, so I fall to the floor straight away in pain.
Why does this always happen to me? Am I that much of a disappointment?
He keeps kicking and punching my ribs, I sometimes think if he even cares how much pain he is putting me in. But I see it in his eyes, he doesn't care, he likes my pain.
I feel sharp pains in my ribs but I still don't cry, I haven't cried for years, Cara and Jack enjoyed when I cried, they enjoyed when I showed that I was in pain. So I stopped screaming, I stopped crying, I just take al the pain and bottle it up. I know it's wrong but I can't stand seeing him happy. Happy that I'm showing my pain.
He stops kicking my ribs, but it's too early? It always goes on longer? Is he finally showing me care?
Jack leaves the room and goes into the kitchen and I sigh in relief. He stopped, he stopped early.
But I was wrong, oh how wrong I just was.
I see Jack walking back in with a knife and I know exactly what he is going to do. I know why he stopped, he wanted me in more pain.
Jack lifts me up by my hair and pushes me against the wall next to the door, I feel the stinging pain, the aching, everything, all of this pain but I can't show it.
He holds me up by my hair and starts to cut my back with the knife, he is carving something but I can't tell what it is. I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared. I'm in pain. I just want this all to end. I need this all to end.
After he is done carving on my back, he drops me to the floor and I feel another sharp pain in my ribs, he kicks and kicks again.
"Clean up this mess."
I hate living like this. I can't live like this. I'm not going to give up. I can't give up after everything. Just three more years right? Just three more years.
Im all alone. It's quiet. It's dark outside. I feel so alone. I need to clean up. I need to be quick or I will get punished again. I hate this.
I sit up and wince in pain from my ribs. I see my blood. A lot of blood. My hoodie is soaked in blood. My back is numb. My ribs are aching, they have sharp pains. Everything hurts.
I use the wall to stand up and grab a bag and start picking up empty cans and bottles from the floor with the wall for my support and throw it all in the bin.
I'm exhausted. I could drop to the ground and never wake up right now. But I'm not giving up. Not yet.
I make my way to my bedroom, aka the basement. The basement has a single mattress in the middle of the room, nothing on it except a thin blanket, in the corner of the room is a book, some hoodies, some random pants and my school bag. In the other corner of my room is my first aid kit, hidden by a hoodie thrown over it.
I walk over to where my first aid kit is and pick it up, i crawl back upstairs and go into the nearest bathroom.
I have a job on weekends at a cafe called 'sweetest treats'. The staff there are amazing and understand if I ever need a day off, they don't know about the abuse but they know I have some 'problems' at home. That is where I get the money for things I need, like first aid equipment, food, drinks, clothes, makeup to cover the bruises and whatever else I need.
I taught myself how to clean my cuts and bruises, I'm not allowed any help. I have to take care of everything myself. I hate having to live like this. I'm not living, I'm surviving. All what I want is to live. Not to survive. To live.
I take my hoodie off and look at my back before anything else, I hate looking at my body, I have scars everywhere, my ribs purple and blue, there isn't one place in my body what doesn't have any mark or pain. Jack likes to carve names on my back, he started doing it when Cara died, its one of my worst punishments. I have always hated it. I have names carved onto my back like 'whore' and 'slut'.
Jack doesn't do it a lot, but when he does, it feels like I'm just getting labelled, I'm getting proved to be a whore and a slut. The newest word on my back is 'worthless', I am worthless, I can't even help myself and run away. I have tried but that ended up with my innocence getting taken away. Jack is that sick, that he took my innocence. I cried and cried the whole night after that. I will never try run again. Ever.
I shake my head to get myself out of the memories of that night.
I start off by getting some cotton wool and covering it in some water and then drying it. I then get a sterile wipe and clean the word with tears in my eyes. But I never let the tears fall. I can't.
I finish up cleaning my cut and poke my ribs and then wince in pain. Are they broken? They can't be broken. They aren't broken. Okay they aren't broken, they can't be.
I get so sick of doing this. But I'm not risking it by trying to run away. Im not going to risk my innocence again. My innocence is gone. But I'm not letting jack do it again. I can't.
I go back to the basement and get into a new hoodie and some leggings to sleep in.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I go onto my mattress and pull the blanket over myself and just lie there. I can never sleep on a night knowing when I wake up there might be another beating.
I have to try. I have to survive this. I will survive this. I'm not giving up. Not yet. Three years. I have to keep reminding myself this or I will forget and do something I will regret.
I wish this was all a nightmare. That I lived with a happy family who cared for me. But that's just a fantasy, this is real. It isn't a nightmare. This is real life. This is my life.
𝐀/𝐍 -
First chapter done!!
This may not be the best because it is the first thing I have done like this but I tried.
