He's That Thug

♥ Chapter Five ♥

My blood was boiling. For.sixteen years, I screamed, cried, and cursed into my pillow begging for God to take me. Begging for an escape. For sixteen years, I was beaten, bruised, hated, disrespected, mistreated, and bullied. For sixteen fucking years, my father bullied me. I begged for help. Begged for my mother. Begged for a loving father. Begged for a family.

Of course I didn't get what I wanted. I got this--this stupid, pathetic excuse of a life. For sixteen years, I have dealt with my father's bullshit and I am sick of it.

"Out," I simply replied, rolling my eyes. I tried to get pass.him, but he blocked me.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

I shrugged. "Nobody worth my time."

I knew I that was going to get a kick out of him, so I wasn't suprised when I felt the stinging in ny cheek. He lowered his reddened palm. I shook my head and shoved past him.

"You ungrateful bitch!" He growled after me.

I stopped in my tracks. Call me a bitch. A slit, a homewrecker, a who're...whatever. But don't call me ungrateful.

"Excuse me? What is there to be grateful for, daddy?" I spun around to face him, my face red in anger, and ny eyes sparking. "For not having a mother? Okay. I'm so very grateful to be living without a mother. Or should I be grateful that all you do is get drunk and beat me better than killing me, right?"

My father took a threatening step closer, but I didn't back down.

"Wrong. Death would basiclly be a gift, you spiteful piece of shit." I was going too far. Crossing an invisible line that will change everything. "Anything besides you is a gift! I'm so sorry, daddy, for wanting a loving mom at timesm For hoping my dad would see how much he's hurt me. I apologize for wanting a little happiness. I'm sorry for the constant thought of suicide. I'm sorry I'm not more grateful."

By the time I uttered the last word, the pain started. Punch. Kick. Slap. Slap. Kick. Slap. Punch. I didn't even make a sound through it. I just stayed still and silent, waiting for it to be over. It's what I always did. It's all I could do.

"Dumb." Slap! "Ungrateful," Kick! "Stupid little bitch!"

I was wrong got thinking I could get through to him. My father was pathetic and a waste of space. I couldnt wait ti be rid of him. After several minutes, he stood up.

"Get the fuck out and dont come back until I say so," my dad slurred. He picked up his drunk and spat on my hand.  I disgustedly wiped my hand on the carpeted floor.

I stood up, tears in my eyes. "Gladly."

I ran out the house, my bag in my hands. The door slammed shut behind me, but I didn't care. I needed Symone.

I needed someone, anyone. As if God heard me thoughts, a car pulled up next to me and the window rolled down revealing a smiling Anthony.

"Hello, beautiful," he commented, cocking his head to the side. "You okay?"

I shook my head no and the tears continued to fall. I watched in silence as Anthony climbed out his car and walked to me. Without asking for an explanation, his arms wrapped around me, giving ne a small sense of security.

"What happened? Why are you bruised up?"

I looked down at my reddish, blue-ish arms and then shivered. My hands were shaking. "Can we not...can we not talk about it? I just..." I choked on ny words.

Anthony nodded and took my bag from my hands. He then took my hand in his warm one and helped me into his car.

"Let's go to my place. It's empty. We can.talk."

I was too shaken up to say no. I just nodded and we drove back to my block. All the lights in my house were off. Anthony helped me out and led me right last my home and into his.

When we were inside, he sat me down and made me some tea. Even though I was upset, I found a way to give him a small smile.

"I thought the bad ass gang-boy was just that-- a bad ass gang-boy. Who knew he could make tea and be reay sweet."

Anthony stiffened for a second and then relaxed. "Ha. Yeah. So, you wanna tell me what happened to you?"

I shook my head. "No, not really."

"Roxie..." Anthony began.

"I just don't, okay?" I snapped, tears threatening to.spill over again. Anthony gave ne a slight nod and sat next to me. I felt myself relax when Anthony's arm wrapped around me. I pressed my body against his.

"Anthony?" I whispered, breaking the silence.

"Hm?"

"I need you to take my mind off things."

I didn't care how. I just needed to get my mind off of my shit-faced father. I looked up at him.

"Please..."

Anthony sighed. "If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you."

I smirked. "Is the bad ass, a sensitive bunny saver?"

"Shut up," Anthony growled. I flinched at his tone. He sighed. "Sorry."

I nodded. "It's okay. So...?"

Anthony sighed. And then did the very last thing I expected him to do. The nigga sang. And he can sing. His voice is so beautiful.

In the middle of the song, I tilted his head towards me. "My whole life has no meaning."

Anthony's face scrunched up in confusion. "What? Don't say tha--"

"Shh," I pressd my fingers to his lips. "Just give my life a little meaning, okay?"

He seemed confused for a second, so I showed him. Without waiting for a reply, my lips smashed against his.