The Boy Who Saved Me

Chapter 1: Time To Get Out

Okay, so this is my first fanfic and if it isn't that good, I'm REALLY sorry, but I'm doing my best! :/ So here it is! :)

P.S. ---- I WAS A CARROT WHEN I WROTE MOST OF THIS SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR THE CARROTY WRITING THROUGHOUT THIS BOOK MKAY ILY AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!!!

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*Beep! Beep! Beep!*

I slammed my hand down on my alarm clock just to make the annoying beeping stop. The last thing I wanted was to hear that noise, especially after what happened last night. Anyway, let me introduce myself.

My name is Carrie-Lee, I'm 14 years old, and I hate my life. Now, you've probably heard this said by many teenagers, but with me, I actually have a reason (a plausible one anyway). You see, my stepfather is an abusive drunk, and my stepmom is a drug addicted, alcoholic, prostitute.

They adopted me when I was seven because my real parents died in a car accident while on there way to a Christmas party. I was with a babysitter when it happened, so I guess you could say I'm lucky, but that's not how I would put it. I'd personally rather have died with my parents that day.

After the accident, I was taken to the scene that has scarred me ever since. What I saw was a flipped over, crunched up car covered in bright yellow-orange flames. At the time I was too shocked to say or do anything, but all I could think was "where are my parents?" Then, as if she read my mind, a tall police officer walked over to me and told me the whole story in every disgusting detail, not even caring that she was talking to a traumatized seven year old.

"I'm sorry for the loss of your parents, but now I have to take you down to the station to see if we can find you somewhere to stay," She explained emotionlessly.

She said it with absolutely no sympathy, letting me know she didn't really care about my parents, how much pain and suffering they went through, or how much pain and sorrow I felt. I stared at her for a few seconds until I just couldn't take it anymore; it was too much.

I took off running as fast as my small, frail legs could take me. I kept running and running not knowing where I would go, just knowing that I had to get away from where my dead parents were. I felt the hot tears running down my face as I slowed down, my body giving up. I could hear police sirens blaring behind me, getting closer and closer. I turned around to see how far behind me they were, but I tripped on something unknown to me. I fell to the ground, knocking my head on the asphalt.

I blacked out, only to wake up later in the back of an ambulance. I was taken to the hospital accompanied by a social worker to be cared for an examined.

About three weeks later, I was introduced to my new 'parents'. The social worker told me they were old friends of my parents, and they said they would take me in if I had nowhere else to go (which I didn't). So the very next week, I was released from the hospital and sent home with my new stepdad, Dave, and my new step mum, Susan.

It was hell from the start.

"Get in the car you little brat!" yelled Susan.

That's the day it all began. I was shoved into a dirty old car and my hell of a new life began. From the day we arrived home to the present, Dave has abused me in every way possible. He's punched, slapped, and kicked me, throwing me around like a worthless ragdoll. He's raped me, and sadly, he's not the only one. He lets his friends that come over to our house every weekend have their way with me too. My step mum is too drugged or drunk to care, so she just lays around the house until her clients come. She may be married, but in order to supply her and Dave's habits, Dave makes her entertain other men to make money since neither one of them has a real job.

So that's what it's been like for me for the past seven years. Which leads me to what happened last night.

So, Dave was drunk (like always) and kicking, punching, and slapping me around, yelling at me about how worthless and stupid I am, when Susan comes in the door from being out on the streets looking for a new sex toy.

Dave starts to yell at Susan. "Where and the bloody hell have you been?! You left me here with this little brat for six hours too long, damn it! Where were you two hours ago?"

Susan just stared at him and then turned away to walk off, but didn't get very far. Dave stomped over to her and grabbed her arm, slinging her around to face him. They start to yell at each other and while they do, I try to make an escape to my bedroom on the other side of the stuffy living room. Hopefully you were paying attention because keyword equals: tried.

"Where the hell do you think you're going!"

Dave, after seeing my failed escaped, is shooting daggers at me with his eyes. He throws Susan in the floor and strides over to me, picks me up, and drags me to his room where he has his way with me for the second time this week.

Like always, I eventually pass out from the pain. Somehow, like always, I end up in my own bedroom without a clue of how I got here. All I know at this point is my body is almost too weak to stand up.

Slowly, ignoring the pain surging through my body, I stand up and walk over to my bathroom. I shut and lock the door and look into the cracked mirror to see what new damage has been added to my already broken body. I take one look at myself and almost vomit in disgust. I have brand new bruises of every color all over my legs, torso, stomach, and face. My arms have bruised hand marks and my wrists have rope burn from being tied to the bed. There is dried blood on my shorts and my knickers and my hair is tangled and matted. Hot tears form and trail down my sore cheekbones. I look away from the mirror.

I knew what I was about to do would only scar me further, but it was the only thing that would take my pain away. (**TRIGGER WARNING**)

I looked in the bathroom cabinet and pulled out a disposable razor with a brand new sharp silver blade that just seemed to be screaming my name. I brought it up to my wrist and made two clean cuts straight across. It sears with pain, but nothing could amount to the pain I've already felt from the continuous beatings from Dave and his so called friends. I clean up my wounds and wrap it in gauze to cover up the fresh and recent cuts I have, including the old scars from the past. I throw away the razor and turn my face back to the mirror.

"I'm just a screwed up mess. I'm just an ugly, beaten, and broken teenage girl that has no reason to live." I think to myself.

No! Stop thinking that way! You will get out of here one day!

That's when it crosses my mind. I am going to get out of here. Soon. And maybe, just maybe, that soon... is today.

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Well, that's my first chapter! I hope you liked it and please let me know what you think, so comment and vote please! :)

By the way, my name is Carrie-Lee, haha. But I promise you, none of this story is true! It's just a fanfic!

Anyways, also in the comments, ask questions if you want to about me so you can get to know me better and later on, maybe in an authors note in the next chapter, I'll ask you guys some questions so I can get to know you! So remember COMMENT AND VOTE! If this first chapter does well, I'll update in a few days, if not, I'll wait longer! Anyways, goodbye! :) <

P.S.---Sorry for the long author's note! :/