Damned Pure-blood Prince [Book #1 of the Damned Series; Completed]

I really hate Fridays.

     That's Juliet /\. The guy on the cover is Ashborne.
(Later edit: I meant Ashborne he had a name switch. Sorry for any confusion.)

     This is my first attempt at a real book on here. I'm trying. Cut me a little slack? Thanks. The chapter length will probably differ. Thanks again, much appreciated.

     (Later edit: NO INCEST. Her father is not raping her. NO INCEST. Hate to disappoint.)

     (Later later edit: Yea. Whatever. Skip the first two chapters. Just...skip them. Didn't really think it through and regret them. I can't delete them because they've been up too long. Just skip it.)
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     I've always been an introvert labeled "suicidal freak" and "emo". I'm always wearing black combat boots or converse, baggy black jeans, a baggy black t-shirt, and a baggy black hoodie. I never liked my body so I hid it as best I could. I kept my hood up, earbuds in, and head down. I have orange hair, silver eyes, and pale skin. I'm a senior (skipped a couple years) but I'm a new 15 year old (birthday recently), so I usually say I'm 18 so I fit in more. I'm also a virgin, making me even more of a target. Because, of course, all the popular people sleep around, like it's some sort of initiation.

     I avoided people as much as possible. It worked a majority of the time but I was bullied a lot too. I don't mind, I love school. I love the escape. I hate it when the final bell tolls and I have to got home. I hate Fridays. They meant that Saturday and Sunday I had no retreat. I could only stay home. I felt the necklace around my throat, making sure it was still there.

     I don't remember where I got it but in the dreams I remembered from childhood the boy gave it to me. I know it's not real but I clung to the dream, pretending that for at least a little while, I was happy. I know I'm adopted. I have to be. My parents look completely different. My mother has olive skin and greasy blonde hair and brown eyes. My father has tanner skin and is balding but has black hair and darker eyes that glinted with malice. I clung to the dreams I'd long since stopped having. Only nightmares while I was asleep and while I was awake. I've been with my parents as long as I can remember. I feel even more unwanted. Unwanted by the parents that threw me on the street. Unwanted by the parents that took me in. I find the smallest sliver of comfort in the fact I don't have their blood in my veins.

     I sighed as I boarded the bus home. I stared out the window and turned up my phone, blocking out the random insults hurled my way. I watched the scenery pass and kept checking the time. I can't be late. Not after last time... I shook my head, absentmindedly rubbing the inside of my wrists. The scars were hidden beneath my sleeve but still. I felt them.

     While the next song was coming on I heard a bang near me and flinched without meaning to. I had a white-knuckled grip on my phone. I forced myself to loosen my hand. I tried to calm the fear threatening to send my into another panic attack. It's fine. He's not here. It's just some stupid kids. I shake my head. I'm too paranoid. I'm not home. Nothing'll happen. I tug at my hood as the bus stops at the street corner. I silently get off the bus. I turn off my music and wrap my earbuds around my phone, putting it in my bag. My parents don't like it when they don't think I'm listening. I get to my front door and hear screaming and something shatter. I checked the time. A minute to spear thank God.

     "Juliet!" my mother screeched. I winced. I didn't say anything and quickly put my stuff in my room before I break anything I need...again. I ran back upstairs before they realized where I was.

     "There you are you little slut!" I wince as a glass flies by my head, shattering on the wall behind me. He's been drinking again...

     "I'm going to take a nap. Make sure she doesn't wake me up." my mother said, walking past me to her bedroom upstairs.

     "Get over here!" my father said. I timidly walked forward. "Faster!"

     "Sorry..." I said softly, standing before him. I looked at my beat-up converse. My eyes widened as I realized as my mistake. I opened my mouth to correct it but it was too late. He grabbed my shoulder roughly and I cried out, teary-eyed.

     "Sorry what?! Sorry what you little bitch?!" He screamed at me. I winced.

     "Sorry sir!" I squeaked. He threw my on the ground and I slid onto the glass shards, slicing my hand open. I yelped again. It was shallow but still stung.

     "Get. Up. I am tired of you, and your insubordination. I'm going to handle this once and for all." He muttered, going down the stairs. Oh no...his room was upstairs. There is a room in the basement. It's like the torture chamber...God no...please...

     "Father no...please..." I said, scrambling to my feet. My hood fell and he grabbed my hair. I screamed as he pulled my downstairs. He hasn't gone this far in a while...

     "Get." He ordered. I couldn't help as tears slid down my cheeks. What have I done this time? I've gotten straight A's. I don't know what I've done...

     "Father I-"

     "Stop. Take off your shirt. You'll learn up to what you've done." he commanded. I was terrified. No...it makes it worse that it's a Friday. No one will hear me scream and no one will expect me anywhere until Monday. "If you don't I will and you'll end up worse off."

     I nodded and took off my hoodie. My skin and scars shone against the darkness. I winced as the cold hit me. I slowly pulled off my shirt, thankful I remembered to wear my tank top this morning. I felt more tears slip down my face. I don't know why he's doing this to me. I realize that it's my fault but I don't remember what I've done.

      "Arm's above your head! Middle of the room! You know this! I shouldn't have to explain everything to you, you useless bitch!" he was angry. I winced at his words.

     "I'm sorry for whatever I've done this time father-"

     "Apologies from a slut are useless! Their trash like the people who speak them!"

     I did as I was told and he tied my wrists and raised me until I was dangling a couple inches off the ground. My tank top rose and exposed some of my bare stomach and back. Due to my starving I wasn't that heavy but it still felt like my arms were ripping off. He secured my ankles at the bottom to the ground so I can't kick or swing. Which I've tried. It resulted in whippings. My necklace glinted in the almost completely dark room, shining against my pale skin. My father's eyes glinted in the dark. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on something else.