"Emily! Get you ass down here!" My dad yelled angrily from down stairs.
I cringed. I knew what was coming next. It's the same thing everyday, a daily routine. My father comes home - drunk and angry - calls me down stairs, hits me a couple of times, tells me how worthless I am, then sends me up to my room without dinner, and I run up to my room, crying. My dad finally gets sober, hears me crying, runs up to my room, and acts all innocent. Then tells me he is sorry and sends me to bed. Without food.
Explains why I'm 18 and only weigh 108 pounds.
Even though dad tells me that he is trying his best to stop, I know he won't. And I would be a fool to ever believe that he would.
"Emily!"
"Coming dad!" I yelled back, my voice shaking.
I run out of my room and turn the corner to the stairs. Holding on to the railing, I stand at the top, looking down at my father who is holding a beer in his hand. Typical.
"Sir?" I ask in my shaky voice.
"Why didn't you come down the first time I called you!?!"
"I'm sorry, I was finishing up my -" he cut me off.
"I didn't ask for an explanation! Get your ass down here!"
"But dad I -" I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut.
"EMILY RY'ANN HAYES, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE! I WON'T TELL YOU AGAIN!" I covered my ears and jumped.
I made my way down the stairs as fast as I could - which wasn't very fast beings my legs were trembling - ready to get this over with.
"FASTER!!!" He yelled, throwing his beer bottle at me. I was only about half way down the stairs when it hit me in the arm and shattered on the floor. I screamed, losing my balance, and fell face first, hitting my forehead on the next step and started rolling down the glass-covered steps.
When I reached the bottom, I groaned and looked up to see my father standing over me. He reached his hand to his waist and slowly reached for his belt. He rapped it around his hand and reared back. He jerked his hand forward, causing the belt to hit me in the side. Then again, this time hitting me in the chest, knocking the breath out of me. I struggled to breath as I pulled my arms over my head and trying to pull my legs in, but they wouldn't budge.
He kept hitting me and hitting me. Over and over again until my whimpering stopped and my body became numb.
He looked back down and smirked at me. Then kicked me in the side and walked away, leaving the mess for me to clean up. Leaving me in pain.
***
I laid there for, I don't know how long. Until I got enough strength to drag myself up the stairs and into my room to clean myself up.
I picked the tiny shards of glass out of my arms and legs and got a wet wash cloth to wipe away the blood. Then, I bandaged the bad cuts up and limped out of the bathroom.
I went downstairs and grabbed the broom. I swept up the broken glass and poured it into the trash can. Then walked over the the fridge and grabbed and ice pack out of the freezer.
I limped back up the stairs and into my room, closing the door behind me. I sat on my bed, holding the icepack to my now purple and blue arm. When my arm was so cold that it was numb, I reached into my top drawer and grabbed my silver blade.
I ran to the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind me. I ran cold water over my arm then brought the blade to it. I slide the blade over it, carful not to cut too deep. After I did this a few more times, I wiped the blood away and bandaged my arm. I sighed. I was relieved. This was my relief.
I walked out of the bathroom and changed out of my clothes. Then sat on my bed and waited. Waited for my dad to hear my sobs. Waited for him to run upstairs to my room and give me his innocence, his sympathy. Then watch him leave me to sob into my pillow. To cry myself to sleep knowing that I will have to do it all over again tomorrow.
I don't know how I'm going to survive until my senior year is over.
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Hi guys! Okay so this is my first wattpad story so I'm learning. Don't judge.
Well I did write another one, but I deleted it when it got to the first 3 chapters so......Anyway,
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