Glass Hearts

Ch.5: Healed to be hurt again

WARNING: Mention of drug use, mention of abuse, abuse, abandonement, alchohol abuse, verbal abuse (please do not read if you are sensitive to any of these topics)

I enter my house with a loud creak of the door and realize my father wasn't there he's probably off at a bar or doing coke lines in a parking lot, always something related to being under the influence. I call out for my sister and figure she probably went out to the food bank which made sense when I opened the fridge to find nothing but a pack of beers that belonged to my father and water jugs for whenever the water bill hadn't been paid like today where the jugs had been left empty. I always enjoyed being at Adelia's house, she'd grown up in a white picket fence and family dinners every night type of family where as I have a broken rusted fence and an even more broken family. My mother had abandoned us when I was 5 after not being able to condone the abuse she had faced from my father. After her departure my father drowned even farther in alchoholism which made the abuse even worse.

I still have faint memories of my mother, her tanned skin, her brown curly hair and of course her smile. We shared the same smile whcih was why I had always been a target of my father's abuse. I reminded him of her. He even called me by her name a lot. After all these years I'd managed to avoid him but sometimes-

"MONICA!" My father yells angrily stumbling through the front door with the stench of alchohol filling the room

I immediately try to run but the stairs were so close to the door he grabs me by my hair and slams my head agains the wall in force, I cry out in pain as tears stream down my face.

"WHERE'S MY FUCKING BEER, BITCH!" He yells in my face the stench of alchohol hightens at his proximity

"In the fridge" I say barely audible, he pushes my head harder against the wall

"STOP MUMBLING, MONICA!" there it was, my mother's name again

"In the- the fridge" I say loud enough for him to hear.

He finally lets go of my hair and stumbles to the kitchen muttering "useless bitch"

I make my way upstairs sobbing, I sit on the creaky floor and just cry till I wished my lungs would give out from how useless they've become.

It seemed I always healed to be hurt again.

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A/N: Hi guys, this chapter was more intense than the rest but it actively demonstrated Alora's home life and past giving the story a more mature theme. If these are themes you are not comfortable with I'd suggest you do not read this story. However if this sparked your interest I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and there will be more of her past building to come.

Sarah