She Cries

·chapter 3·

I got up quickly, pulling my skirt down.
'Thanks.' I stuttered, still in shock.
'are you okay?.' He asks as he looks at me.

'yeah, I'm okay.' He grins again before leaving through the door.

I walk to the main room where everyone's partying. Rose was dancing with a guy when I pulled her away.

'hey! I was trying to dance.' She whines as she waves her hand dramatically.

'i just got attacked by a creep!' I say.

She looks at me with sympathy as she pulls me into a hug.

'Have some punch, it calms you down.' Rose says as she shoves me towards the bowl full of red liquid. Cherry's and pineapple bobbed at the top of the punch bowl as I filled my cup to the brim. I swallowed it, I could feel a burning sensation. I filled my cup again, wanting the same pleasure that was fulfilled in my last swig.

8 hours later

I woke up to a blurry morning as I pulled out my phone. It read 9 o' clock in the morning as I began to panic. Even though it was Saturday, I still had to cook breakfast for my asshole dad.

I could feel my head ache as I woke Rose, who was passed out on the couch with a lamp shade on her head.

'Rose? Wake up Rose.' I said while shaking her.

'oh yes Michael I would like some more Tequila.' She mumbled flipping on her other side.

I groaned as I swung the front door open beginning the short trek to my house.

Once I got to my house I quietly tried to open my window.

I heard a gruff voice, 'so you thought you could sneak out without me noticing?' A cigarette was in his right hand and a half empty vodka bottle in the left.

I tried to walk past him, to start breakfast but he dropped the liquor bottle and grabbed my arm.
Vodka sloshed onto my legs as glass shards layered the floor.

He punched me, causing me to slam into the wall.

I started to cry, 'dad please stop.' I begged looking up at him.

He dragged me up off the ground, releasing another punch to my eye and then he left , slamming the door behind him.

I sobbed on the floor as I looked over at a shards of glass. Scars were permanently found on my wrists. I promised myself I wouldn't do it again. I took the shard in my right hand as I started to release past anger on my arms. I continued to cry as my vision went blurry once again.

I woke up, my sweater sleeve soaked with blood. I looked in the mirror. Mascara ran down my face as I acknowledged the black eye I had. This is my life.