Rebel Born [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 1: The Beginning

I woke up to being thrown across the room like a ragdoll by my own father. The impact against the wall knocked the air out of my lungs and opened up a recent knife wound on my back. Gasping for breath, the world began to spin and black dots danced in front of my eyes. Planting my hands on the ground, I struggled to push myself up before a searing pain tore through my skull as my father grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me up before slamming me against the wall once more. I stayed down this time, my senses ablaze. The stench of alcohol buried itself in my nose as my eyes watered.

What a nice wake-up call. I curled myself in a way to shield my left arm, which was covered in bruises from a beating I had received earlier in school. Just bear through it, I thought to myself, this will end today. I I repeated those words in my head like a mantra as I watched my father sway on his feet.

"Doya know... what I hath to go through... to... day?" He started, pausing now and then to gather his thoughts from his mind, words slurred as they tumbled out of his mouth. The same thing you have to go through every day?

I stayed silent, watching him as I looked at him from the corner of my eyes. He let out a growl as his rough hands took hold of my neck, choking me. "Do you?!" He screamed in my face, his alcohol filled breath flaring up my nose.

"N-no." I choked out. At that, he dropped me back to the ground where I sat coughing and cradling my neck, heaving until I got lightheaded. He's going to talk about how awful his day was now. I thought, tilting my head to look at him. Indeed, he had begun his rant. I breathed in and out, calming my racing heart as I zoned out.

I was brought out of my daydream when I heard the familiar crack of glass against the wall behind me, followed by stomps and a door being shut with a loud thud. Turning to look behind me, I traced my finger along the edge of one piece of the broken alcohol bottle. That was pretty mellow. Today must have been not as bad.

I stood up carefully, my legs trembling and my wounds stretching out after being compressed for a long time. I made my way to my bed one step at a time before letting gravity do its job as I fell on it. Snaking an arm underneath, I grabbed my First Aid kit so I could tend to any new wounds. Pushing myself into a sitting position with a shaky arm, I pulled my dirtied shirt over my head, looks like I bled through the bandages again, and assessed my body.

Bleeding on my right ankle, hairline left arm and left leg. Knife wound on my back is opened up again and more bruises on my arms and back. I cataloged in my head. I started with the slight bleeding, dabbing at them with alcohol wipes before placing a band-aid on them.

Pulling my tangled brown hair over my shoulders, I looked over the injury on my back in my mirror. I slowly undid the wraps that covered my entire chest and abdomen, letting the knife wound breathe some fresh air after being held in by blood-soaked bandages for hours.

A long scarlet line ran from my right shoulder blade to my left hip. The bleeding hasn't stopped yet. Guess I'll just change the bandages. I need to figure out a better way to clean it. I undid the, before rewrapping it with new bands. After securing the new bandages, I pulled a slightly cleaner shirt over my head, stretching slightly to test the boundaries of the injuries.

My thought wondered to my father. Our relationship wasn't always like this. The abuse started out of nowhere when I was ten, but the abuse ends today.

Reaching under my battered pillow, I wrapped my hands around a hard drive that contains my ticket to freedom. I slipped it into a small jean bag that I found a few years ago near the trash cans. The straps had fallen free and there were multiple holes in it, but I took it with me and fixed it up myself. Adjusting its placement slightly to keep it from rubbing my wounds, I approached the window in my room and pushed it open, my arms shaking as I struggled.