A New hope

Chapter 1-survival

"CIANA GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW" I flinch, hearing my 'father' yell from downstairs. What did it do now? I cleaned the house, cooked breakfast, and I even remembered to get up extra early this morning to clean the floorboards that I heard my 'mother' complaining about last week.

I slowly roll towards the edge of my makeshift bed, avoiding putting any weight on my right shoulder. I got in trouble a few days ago for forgetting to unload the dishwasher before my parents got home. I had fallen asleep on the couch from exhaustion after school and woke up to my arm being pulled from its socket. Definitely wasn't the best way to get woken up.

"CIANA!" I hear him yell again. I curse under my breath as I quickly get to my feet cradling my newly self-set shoulder. I rush down the stairs from the attic, moving as quickly and quietly as I can. If my father is hung over then he'll get even madder at any loud noises I make. I Make my way from the storage room that accesses the attic and out into the living room where my livid father stands.

My body involuntarily starts shaking without me realizing. He sees this and smirks, any sort of fear I show only brings him joy. I try to stop trembling but if anything trying to stop it makes my body shake even harder. "What do you call this young lady?" he questions, pointing to the spotless living room. I don't answer him, knowing whatever I say will make him angrier.

"I told you to clean the kitchen, not the living room." My brain stalls.... Is he actually serious? Apparently I show my opinion on my face as well as my thoughts because before I know it a fist is making harsh contact with my face. I stumble back not expecting the hit. that one's gonna bruise. Thankfully the blasting ring tone of a phone sounds off in the quiet room. We both look towards my fathers phone as the annoying ring one again goes off. I still as my father's face moves to mine then back toward the phone. He picks it up, looks at the number then starts striding toward the door, "Go make dinner, it better be hot when I get home." I nod even though I know he won't be able to see it. Looks like I got off easy this time.

-

I'm jolted awake from the sounds of sirens passing by my house. Groggily I get up from my mattress on the ground, shivering as the cold attic air hits my body. I look towards the one small window in the attic. The sun has just started rising, good I'm just in time. Making my way down the narrow stairs I lift my hand towards my face wincing as I find a sore spot along my left cheek bone.

I check the hallway for my mom or my dad. Seeing no one I slowly started walking toward the one bathroom in the house. It's risky to shower when my parents are home since the bathroom also connects to their bedroom but thankfully they have white noise playing so loud that they don't usually hear me. I try to avoid the mirrors as I get ready but I can't help but look at myself as I step out of the shower. My dirty blonde hair looks brown from the water, the punch caused the left half of my face in all sorts of purples and blues, and my shoulder doesn't look much better. I know that if I drop the towel I'll find the many bruises and marks that my mother and father have left me over the years.

Sighing I turn my eyes away from my depressing image and quickly get dressed for the day. Thankfully it's a Saturday so I don't have to get ready for school. I leave the bruise visible, I'm left handed and I really can't muster up the strength to move my shoulder around for even a simple task as putting on makeup.

Making my way out of the bathroom I walk into the living room. The house is tiny which at least makes it easier for me to clean. There's really only 3 rooms in the one story house. The living/kitchen area, my parents bedroom, and my dads office which I'm never allowed in. Besides the small bathroom and my attic that's all there really is to house. But It makes hiding and avoiding my parents a lot harder since I'm not allowed outside of the house besides school.

I look towards the kitchen. "Huh, that's weird," I think aloud. The 2 plates of pasta I made for my parents last night are still sitting on the small table next to the counter. I think little of it though moving collect the dishes. Such a waste of food, if I had known they weren't going to eat any I could have put it in containers to save it. Now that it's been sitting out all night it's no longer good. Checking the time on the stove I quickly realized I was running out of time to prepare before my parents woke up. My parents woke up at 7:30 and it was 7:14. I rush to scramble some eggs and butter some toast before they come out of their room. Just as I finish setting down the plates full of steaming food my mother stumbles out of their room. I quickly try to leave the room before she'll see me but the only way back to my room is through the same hallway she's standing in. Damn it.

"my girl!" she shouts seeing me standing with my back to her in the kitchen. I jump, not expecting that. I turn towards her, her eyes are bloodshot and red, and the smell of weed on her is crazy strong. Lovely. "My little girl!" she says happily, moving towards me faster than I think. I take many steps back to recount for the lost space. "My baby jenny." she sobs holding her arms out for me. "Come give me a hug" Fuck. Jenny was her little sister who she helped raise and technically my aunt, though I have never met her. Jenny was dead and had died many years ago when she was 14, my age, which meant that my mother was seeing me as her younger sister.

My mother soon trapped me, my back hitting the counter harshly, I tried not to wince as it hit a bruise along my hip. Soon her bony arms wrapped around me tugging me harshly into her chest. I let her hold me for a moment until the pain coming from my ribs becomes too much as I start to pull back she pulls me harder into her until the point of excruciating pain. Now panicking I try to forcibly push her off me. My mothers high self doesn't like this and gets into my face. A look of realization comes over her face before she pushes me away from her, face full of disgust. It hurt, not only from her shoving me but the realization that she only saw me as her sister, not even daring to touch her own kid. I felt a pang in my chest, it felt nice for a second, to have someone comfort and want you. I take in a shaky breath.

"YOU BITCH!" she screams, " why would you Deceive me like that?"

"I..." I start.

"You're a good for nothing whore! You're lucky we provide you with a house and food. If it were up to your father, we would have left you on the streets years ago. You're worthless! Get out of my sight" she yells. I bow my head, not letting her see the expression on my face. I race past her, quickly running into the storage room and up into the attic while wiping a stray tear from my face.

I hear her moving around downstairs before the front door slams closed. I don't bother going down for the rest of the day until dinner comes up.

I slowly make my way downstairs, checking again that no-one is home. I didn't hear anyone come home but I know that they always could have stuck in to catch me doing something. They always want a reason to beat me. Downstairs is a mess, there's glass all over the floor which I realized by stepping into a pile that was just outside of the door. I ignore looking at my now bleeding foot and make my way into the main room. It's littered, the Furniture is in pieces and there's trash everywhere. How in the hell am I going to fix this.

I sigh and begin in the living room, moving broken glass and other trash into the spare bag I grabbed from the kitchen. The glass is digging into my hands and feet but I don't bother tending to them. If anything I deserve the pain, at least it gives me something to think about.

About 15 minutes later I see lights move in front of the house. I panic, I'm going to get in so much trouble when dad sees this. As my mind starts racing to the many different painful futures I could experience I hear a knock on the door. My father would never have knocked, he knows the house code. I hear another knock, "Malcolm city police, open the door please."