Point of View.

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WARNING: A little bit of sexual assault takes place in this chapter. I will mark where it begins and ends with bold dots, so you can skip it if you want to.

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Chapter Fifteen: Point of View

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August 6th

Maka was a very smart girl. She excelled both in and out of school, and had outstanding physical skill. Although not a very social person, the friendships she did form were of mutual trust and respect.

Maka did not feel like a very smart girl at the moment, however.

No, she felt like an idiot.

'Why the hell did I decide to come back willingly? Why the fuck did I think, again, that I could handle it on my own?'

These were the thoughts that frequently occupied her mind as she was beaten on and spat at.

When the words "Now go get me a beer" rang in her ears, she knew she was free for at least a few hours. She scurried to her feet and into the kitchen, where she hoisted a six-pack out of the fridge and carried it over to her father.

"Do I look like a drunkard to you?" He growled, glaring at the drinks.

"No-no, sir, not at all," Maka hurriedly exclaimed. "It's just, as you've said before, you're not a lightweight, so I figured you might like more than one or two..." she trailed off, shutting her eyes in anticipation of a slap or smack, but was surprised to find the weight of the alcohol being lifted from her.

"Tch," he scoffed. "Smart girl. Now get out of my sight."

Obediently, she rushed up to her bedroom. Once inside, she shut the door and collapsed on the bed.

She groaned. She wanted to do nothing but sleep, but her time could be harvested in more productive ways than a nap.

Rolling over, she snatched a journal off of the nightstand ('How nice of him to leave the room untouched,' she'd thought upon reentering it the first time.) and flipped it open.

Operation: Get Father Arrested for Child Abuse

She smiled faintly at the cheesy title, but nonetheless reread and took more notes on her plan.

Maka studied her notes for hours, and the time seemed to be on a different vector than normal; she didn't even notice its passing.

She was only snapped back to reality when she heard the front door open and Kokatsu's drunken friends stumble in.

Jumping to her feet, she ran downstairs to make dinner for them.

Maka went to bed earlier than normal that night; she was finally left alone at ten o'clock.

She sighed, stretched, and curled up on her bed, where sleep soon claimed her.

...

She was roughly awaken at some ungodly hour of the morning by being rolled over onto her back, and she was barely able to make out her father's face in the darkness.

The stench of alcohol was overwhelming, she noted as his heavy breathing got closer and closer to her face.

"Your mother should've named you Tiny Tits," he grumbled, as his hand groped around her chest area.

Maka stiffened, hoping to whatever god was out there that this wasn't actually happening.

"You have the body of a child," he spat, shaking her. "How old are you now? Shouldn't you have at least Cs?"

Her hands moved to cover her breasts, to which he chuckled.

"You ain't got nothin' to hide there."

His hands blindly moved all over her body, and her breath hitched in her throat when one of them slipped between her legs.

...

Fear is something incomprehensible.

Fear is something that pulls you out of your safe zone-your comfort zone-and renders you powerless in your situation. It's something that builds, something that keeps feeding on the common goal of making you feel completely vulnerable. It's uncontrollable. Whenever it happens, you are completely alone. You don't have any means of getting back to safety. You have nothing.

Fear makes you irrational. It is something that causes you to do things and say things you wouldn't normally even consider-like calling out for your mother; or sprinting towards anywhere-you don't know where; you're just running as fast as you can, trying to get away. But you know, deep down, you won't be able to.[1]

Her mind blanked out.

'Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts, Maka. This isn't happening.

Think about school. Think about books. Think about puppies. Think about kittens. Think about your friends.

Think about Kidd.

Kidd.

....Kidd.

I'm letting this man ruin me. He's soiling me. Don't I want to stay pure? For myself, and for Kidd?

I want Kidd to be my first, not this abusive deadbeat.

Not this man.'

She regained her sense of self, and her eyes glowed with determination.

"Get off!" she screeched, thrashing about like a fish out of water.

Her father scowled at her, displeased. "I tell you what to do, not the other way around."

"I don't care how much you beat me! Break my bones, give me internal bleeding, I don't care! But I will not let you do this to me!"

His nose wrinkled in disgust, before lifting her to eye level by the collar of her shirt.

She held firm, matching his glare with one just as fierce-if not stronger.

He lifted her off of the bed by her neck, keeping her face-to-face.

"I don't give a fuck about what you want. You hear me?" he snarled, shaking her back and forth. "You're just lucky I'm too drunk to get it up." He then threw her at the bedframe, where the sudden impact on her head knocked her unconscious.

She slid to the floor, where she slept a dreamless sleep.

[1]: The 'fear' passage is a paraphrased version of Cryaotic's "Cry's Definition of Fear". (Just giving credit where credit's due, because that man is a genius.)

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