Defy: A Story About True Love Overcoming All (Lesbian Story)

Chapter 3

     Lyric was laying in her bed with her headphones in looking through different scholarship opportunities she could get. Sports, no, essay, preferable, academic excellence, yes, art... Lyric paused when she saw the art scholarship, but then swiped it away. How would an art scholarship help her with a counseling degree? Yes, Lyric loved art, and she had been told over the years that she was a very talented artist, but she never really saw at it as much more than something to distract her. Her mother had loved to paint. Back when their house was bright and happy and her and Sam didn't live in constant fear. Some days she would think back to before and the weight of what she used to have would threaten to crush her. When Lyric painted, it was like she felt closer to her mother somehow, through this shared connection, and it was the only thing that had gotten her through the first year after her mom had died.
Everyone in their house had a different way to deal with their life. Sam had basketball, Lyric had art, and their father had found drinking. At first, it was just a beer or two through the day, to dull the ache. But the more he had to look at his wife's face on their daughter, the more the wave of grief swelled, and the more he drank to try and quell it. He started going to bars, and it had become normal to hear him clump into the house late at night, sometimes with a woman draping herself on him. Tiff, their stepmother, had been one of these women, and then one thing led to another and she married their dad.
This gave new hope to Sam and Lyric. Perhaps with his new young, gorgeous wife, he could move on and get his life together. But pretty Tiff had only brought more misery with the ring she wore on her finger. She and their father drank more, together now, and she treated the kids like nothing more than the help.
Not long before Tiff married their dad he had started getting more violent. Not bad at first, he started yelling more, then breaking things. When he was especially angry, he would grab Lyrics arm and throw her across the room, into furniture, walls, anything that was in the way. At first Sam tried to stop their dad, but all he got from it were bruises and hostility, so he took to slipping into Lyric's room after one of their dads episodes and helping her examine and tend to any injuries. Then their father started hitting her.
It was like clockwork, three out of five days, their father would come home from work and start drinking, one beer after the other. Then, when he was buzzed enough, he would become hostile towards Lyric, always Lyric. On days when her father would drink, she learned to make herself scarce. Retreat to her room, go out to the library or make last minute plans with some acquaintances. But there were still days when it couldn't be avoided.
Lyric jumped when a loud thump issued from down the hall, and realized that warm tears had begun to pool in her eyes, a couple slipping down her face. She furrowed her brow and wiped them away, and looked at her phone. 12:15 a.m. already? She sat up in the bed, her legs draping from the side, and held her breath, praying. Please God, please, I can't do this much longer, just help me. I don't know what to do, please just give me tonight, one night of peace! Another thump resounded through the house, and Lyric let out a small, involuntary whimper. She crept of the bed, edging to her door, and peeked out. Her father had a hand against the wall next to his bedroom door, Tiff sandwiched between him and the doorframe. His face was set in an odd, almost angry expression that sent shivers up Lyric's spine. Trying to be quiet, she shut her door and backed away from it. Her lamp was already off, and she released a slow breath as she climbed into bed and burrowed into the covers. She heard a giggle, then a grunt from the hall, followed by a muffled moan, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She found her headphones, put on a playlist, and drifted off to sleep. Her last waking memory was of lyrics echoing in her mind as she drifted into sleep.