Kissing In Cars [ Vic Fuentes Fanic ]

Chapter 7 - Spill Your Soul

Hi hello hey.
so I've decided to share a few things with my lovely readers :) I'm putting this at the top so you guys read it because its sort of important.
1) yes I do plan on writing some restricted chapters for this because what's a fanfic without smut.... :)) do with that what you will.
2) Depending on how this story turns out I might do a spinoff of Evelyn and Tony after, or maybe one of the guys with a girlfriend I have yet to introduce.
3) I'm trying my best but with school and stuff Its hard for me to find time to write. I'm going to try and update like every 2-3 days but it might be longer because I like publishing long chapters.
4) IM REALLY SORSorrY IF ThIS IS BORING RN. I have a plot all worked out but we have reached the awkward medium of Cara having to get to know them all more and them getting to know her, but I promise you in like 1-2 chapters something big will happen and then something EVEN BIGGER YYEEEAH. ok I'm really excited if you can't tell

ILL LET YOU READ NOW.

Cara's POV

"I... I don't know where to begin." I stuttered.

But I did know. I had to start at the very first sign, the very beginning of that tragic nightmare.

I relived my teen years and let the words spill freely from my mouth. 

.   .   .

It had been raining that night. The droplets sloshed around on the concrete and struck my window with a force, jarring me from my sleep. The house was ice cold, so cold I couldn't leave my bed without a blanket. 

Oh, right, we couldn't afford to pay the heating bill this month. 

From downstairs I heard muffled shouts that grew progressively louder. I was worried for my mother; my dad wasn't exactly abusive... but he was assertive. My mother didn't want to defend herself against him in fear of what might happen.

I slowly crept down the stairs and stood in the doorway of the kitchen. The scene was striking: my father stood inches from my mother, the collar of her shirt balled up in his fist and his other fist raised to strike her face. She whimpered when she laid eyes on me.

"Cara," His gruffed voice sounded exasperated and angry. "I told you to fucking stay upstairs." I hadn't moved fast enough to avoid the water glass flying at my face, and suddenly I was drenched and a searing pain was cutting through my cheeks. Then, he struck my mother.

The next day the doctor told me that I was lucky and that it wouldn't scar. But when he asked me what had happened, I was at a loss. I couldn't tell them that my father threw it at me. That was embarrassing and he had never acted like that before.

I kept quiet. 

Through the months his behavior got worse; he began not only throwing items, but punches as well. If I so much as spilled something on the table I was 'punished', aka smacked across the face or maybe even kicked in the ribs if my mistake was that bad.

Three months later, my father's alcoholism had fully developed. He was almost never sober and he was way too dangerous to be around. If I so much as said the wrong thing I was yanked to the ground by my hair and beaten. My mother was in much worse shape; at least I could leave to school, or to Evelyn's (who promised not to tell anyone, and like the good friend she was, she didn't) but my mother was ordered to come straight home after work every day for... things.

One night getting home from school, the house was completely silent. Cautiously I made my way to the living room and set down my backpack to find my father glaring at my mother, who was seated on the couch and hardly clothed. 

"What the fuck?!" I exclaimed, glancing back and forth at the both of them. My mother looked... Well, she looked like she was ready to work the corner. She was shaking and met my eyes with a painful gaze.