Sorry for not updating sooner I had to move and was busy getting everything put away. Hope you like!!
Skylar POV
The week went by like a blur. The only thing that I could think about was Harry and our kiss. I had two deadlines to make and at this rate there were not going to be met.
As I stood in front of the canvas with my paintbrush in hand I pushed Harry out of my head and did what I do best…paint.
I started painting when I was a little girl. My mom would give me a brush, paint, scrap paper and tell me to stay in the room no matter what I heard. I would always hear my father yelling and throwing things against the wall and my mom crying and telling him to calm down. My father had an addiction to alcohol, women and violence.
I looked down at my right palm at the puckered up scar. This was one of the many scars on my body. But this scar was a consent reminder of how evil my father was, this scar was meant to scare me and that it did. I came home from school to my father hitting my mother with his open fist. I panicked and ran to the kitchen to grab something, anything to help my mom. I grabbed the first thing I saw a knife. I ran back into the living room and yelled for my father to stop. When his face jerked up to my voice his eyes closed to slits and his nostrils flared. He let go of my mom and she hit the floor like a rag doll. I stuck the knife out towards my father in a pathetic attempt to scare him away from me. But my father only got madder and walked towards me in slow motion.
“What are you going do Sky?” He seethed.
I shook like a leaf and stared at him silently.
“You think your tuff; you think you can handle me?” He shouted in my face.
I started to cry and shook my head no. My father snatched the knife from my hand and grabbed a hand full of my hair pulling me towards his face.
“Don’t you ever point a knife at me, do you understand?!! I could smell his soured alcohol breath and I wanted to throw up but instead I shook my head that I understood.
“Good, give me your hand?” The cold way he said it caused me to shiver but I knew not to disobey my father when he was mad. I slowly placed my palm in his hand. I could hear my mom moaning to my father to please stop and before I knew it my father took the knife and cut a deep gash into my palm. I screamed in pain.
“Shut up!” He barked. “This is a reminder to never cross me again. Do you understand?
My hand stung and blood was dripping onto the carpet. I took a few deep breaths to control my rapid beating heart and nodded that I understood. He let go of my hand and I pulled it close to my body.
“Go clean yourself up.” He snapped at me.
As I walked away I stole a glance at my mother lying on the floor with her eyes closed and her head down in defeat and I knew then that I was on my own.
The phone rang and brought me out of the horrible memories of my past. I ran and picked up the phone not paying attention to the caller id.
“Hello.” I breathed into the phone. There was no answer so I tried again.
“Hello.” After a pregnant pause a voice I haven’t heard for years spoke.
“How is my little girl?”
It couldn’t be. He was in jail!
I couldn’t speak and my hand started to shake violently. This could not be happening. How did he get my phone number?
“Are you there baby girl?” The devil spoke again.
I took a deep breath hoping to control my hands from shaking.
