Isabella
"Mom! Dad! I'm home from school!" I yell out to my parents as I step through the front door.
My mom is sitting on the couch, Judge Judy on the TV in the background, "Isabella, why are so late? You missed your dinner."
"I'm sorry," I apologize as I throw my bag on the floor, "I had to go to the library. 5th grade is harder than 4th, y'know."
"Pick that up." A voice says aggressively from behind me. My step-dad is home, and it's about darn time.
Without hesitation, I pick up my school bag and hang it on the hook by the door.
"You got homework?" He questions, walking closer to me.
I nod whilst I pull out a sheet of math problems, "Just this. But Miss Johnson set me the harder questions and they're so difficult-"
"Difficult?!" My step-father yells, "You think your life is difficult? You're just a little kid, you don't know how the world really is."
My mom drunkenly stumbles toward me, "Go do your work then go to bed. You've already missed feeding time, don't piss me off even more."
I run up to my bedroom and sit at my desk with my homework in front of me. I like being a fifth grader; but I wish that I was in high school. All the girls are so pretty, and none of the boys have cooties.
"We got your grades in, Isabella." The door clicks shut and my step-dad enters my room, "I'm not impressed. You did shit."
I frown. Miss Johnson told me I was one of the best in the class. And he also owes a quarter to the swear jar.
I don't question him, not after what he did to me last time, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault you're an idiot. You're fucking stupid and you mess everything up anyways."
I'm used to this. It doesn't bother me too much.
His hands grab my shoulders and throws me against my closet door, the handles digging into my back. A heavy hand comes into contact with the left side of my face, leaving a red handprint on my cheek.
He gains pleasure from hitting me. And this is a regular thing. Sometimes it hurts, like this. Sometimes it makes me feel really little, when he uses mean words. And sometimes he hurts me in a different way. When he touches me.
"I'm going out. You better be asleep by the time I get back." He heads out the door with a handful of money he stole from my piggybank, "There's always more where that came from."
YOU ARE READING
11:11 | Cameron Boyce Story
Fanfiction'She wished for me to be happy, but never felt the emotion herself. I was all she had, Bonnie, and she was my everything. Now that she's gone I have no interest in relationships. I don't hate you, okay? I just don't know how to like you.' *** WARNIN...
