✰𝟗. 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥

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✰𝐌𝐚𝐲

✰𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢'𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐯:✰  

After Dally dropped me off I got exactly what I expected, screamed at once more. My dad was extremely angry that I didn't even tell him where I was going, but he still never asked where I went. He cared about reprimanding me but not what I had been up to. On one hand I was happy that he didn't ask where I had been, even though I could've came up with an excuse easily. But on the other hand I wish he cared enough to worry about my whereabouts.

I went back to my room after receiving another cigarette burn. I laid down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, I was intending to do some thinking, but I fell asleep. I didn't sleep soundly and I was thankful when my dad woke me up, but not in the way that he woke me up. He shoved his cigarette onto my arm again causing me to wake up from the pain. I knew the burn marks that I were acquiring would scar, they always did, and that's why I hated it. I had quite a bit of scars, most from bumps and scratches of everyday life but some from more significant events. The falls I took as a kid and the events I endured as a teen seemed to be forever implanted on my body. I don't mind other's opinions of the scars, I wear showy clothes often so I'm not ashamed, but I hate my own opinions of the scars. I know what each one means and if I focus on it in the mirror too long it won't end well.

"Work." Is all he said before slamming my door. I knew he was waking me up for work, he thinks I'm stupid of course. I went to the bathroom to touch up my makeup and hair and then I changed clothes as well. My current outfit was fine for work but I didn't want to wear something that I had slept in in front of certain people that I might run in to at my work.

✰𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭!✰

I took down my previous hair style and curled my hair instead, and I left my makeup the same as it looked earlier

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I took down my previous hair style and curled my hair instead, and I left my makeup the same as it looked earlier. After I was ready I walked out of the front door, slamming it on my way out. You could hear my dad yelling from a block or two away, or maybe that was just my mind. Sometimes my ears rung with sounds of his screams.

As I started my walk I felt the inside of my front pocket to make sure that my pocket knife was still inside of it. I wasn't supposed to have it but I felt like it was a necessity. After my dad progressed to physical abuse I stole it from the local store. The cashier was smoking a cigarette outside and it was an easy take from the display. I did feel bad but I felt like I had to have it on me. Lots of kids carried knifes in fear of getting jumped and I carry mine for that reason too but also because of my father. I often have nightmares of him trying to kill me and I feel like that could happen in real life. I wouldn't use it on him though, it's just acting. It feels like a safety net to me, even if it'll never ever catch me.

I pushed open the door of Bucks at 7:50, 10 minutes before my shift started. The crowd was huge on a Saturday night and I had a struggle getting through all the people to make it to Buck, who was sitting at the bar. "Hey Buck." I said to him. He looked up from his beer glass and his face practically lit up. "Are you planning on partying tonight?" He said with a smile. "No, I'm here for my shift." I told him sounding confused. "It's Saturday. You don't work on Saturday." He said.

✰𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝✰- 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧Where stories live. Discover now