My kidnapper, is my mate?!?!

Father?

I was in the woods. The wind was howling in my ears. The river was moving fast, spraying me with mist. It smelled like rain was coming. I looked up at the sky, surely enough, it started raining. Suddenly I heard growling behind me, I quickly whipped my head back to look where the growling was coming from. That's when I saw the big green eyes.

Then I woke. I groaned as I started feeling around for my alarm clock, which was beeping loudly. I took my time rolling around my mattress until I realized I needed to hurry. Quickly, I jumped out of bed and got dressed. I combed through my long blonde hair with my fingers as I ran towards the kitchen and started making breakfast. But I was too late.

"I thought I told you that you had to make me breakfast before I woke up." My father said, as he stalked around me in the kitchen.

"I-i'm s-sorry. It will be d-done in 10 m-minutes." I stuttered. I didn't think he would wake up this early....

"That's not good enough!" He yelled in my face. I started to cry because I knew what was about to happen.

"P-please don't." I cried.

"Three whips that are what you deserve." My father growled. I screamed and ran away. Ran out of the kitchen and slammed the bathroom door behind me. But I was too late. Running was futile. He practically kicked the door down and grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"You think you can get away from me!? You never will!!" He yelled in my face. His breath smelled of beer and whiskey. I cried, sobbed, and screamed as my father dragged me down to the basement. He carried me down the wooden stairs that lead to the basement. I was trying to kick away, but he was so strong for me. Then he picked me up and slammed me down on a table. I groaned as I felt my impact on the table shake through me. The basement was filled with dirt and mold covering the walls. Bugs, mostly spiders were littered across the floor. And the air smelled of copper, or metal. Whatever blood is supposed to smell like.

My father laid me down on my stomach and tied my arms and legs to the table. The force of which he tied me with was enough to rub blisters on my skin.

"Please..." I begged. My father lifted up the back of my shirt roughly, which exposed other scars that I had been collecting for the past I don't know how many years.

"Six whips now, for running away from me, and begging. You know I do not like begging." He whispered in my ear. I heard the noise of him picking the whip off another table, which was crowded with other painful tools to use on me for his own sick enjoyment.

"I want you to yell out the number of whips I've given you until we reach six." He told me. He always did this, for some reason he had a sick obsession of making me do whatever he wanted.

I braced myself when the first hit cracked across my back. I screamed at the top of my lungs, the sound ringing in the basement.

"1!" I croaked out. The pain was unbearable. It stung like hell and it felt like a knife slicing a tomato. I could already feel blood forming and flooding down my sides onto the table. I tried to wiggle away from the whip, but my restraints kept me from moving more than a couple inches.

Then he cracked another whip,

"2!" and another,

"3..." I whispered.

He didn't even give me time to let the pain ebb away.

"What was that? Repeat the number!" He yelled, than started laughing. With a loud crack, and a whip much more painful than the others I managed to scream out again,

"3!"

Finally all six whips had been finished so he untied me and left me to cry on the table. Salty tears went down my cheeks. I couldn't curl up because my back had been in so much pain. Blood was pooled all around me, causing me to gag.

I waited and waited for the pain to go away but it didn't. Then the pain was so bad, I passed out.

When I finally woke back up, blood was crusted on my back, sides, and the table. My back hurt like hell, but I slowly got up and walked back up those old, wooden stairs. My stomach growled in hunger, my throat burning from how dry it was. When I stumbled into my room I saw a note on my mattress.

"Dear Catherine,

You have been asleep for 2 days so far. If you are awake and reading this, I'm at the store getting more food. I am expecting for you to be awake by the time I get home, and if you aren't, then I will kill you. But I guess I'll still kill you even if you are awake?

-Dad"

Gasping I thought, I was asleep for two days? I looked at the time which was 7:34 p.m. After a couple minutes of panicking from the note, I realized what I had to do. I had to run away. I had to get away from this freak. Hopefully I could make it out alive.

I grabbed my backpack and emptied everything and started adding clothes. I painfully changed my blood soaked shirt. I had gotten this shirt from my mom before she left us. Us meaning me and my dad. I quickly grabbed a black sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. At the moment, my wrists were slightly pink, they felt like they had been rubbed raw the first night, but now they are almost fully healed.

I ran out of my room with my backpack, and ran to the kitchen.

I grabbed many boxes of granola bars, and canned fruits. I even stuffed a couple mini bags of chips. Once I finished zipping my bag up, I heard noises coming from outside. My heart sank. I went over to the window, and saw my dad exiting his car. When he started heading towards the front door, I ran back to the kitchen and yanked my bag over my shoulders, wincing in the process.

As I bolted out the back door of the house, I saw my furious dad running at me with a gun.

"Shit!" I yelled. I ran as fast as I could towards the woods. Even me being injured, I am still way too fast for my dad to catch up. Suddenly I heard my dad cussing and a gun shot. Luckily he missed.

I looked back at me and saw he was about 50 feet away from me. Then I quickly turned and ran into the woods, listening to my dad shooting and cussing.

These woods are so big anyone would have a hard time getting their way through it. But, I took my chances, because I wouldn't want to go back to my house where my dad would kill me with his little hand held gun. Once I was in the woods, I saw my dad retreating back into the house. I was hiding behind a tree, watching my dad yelling in the house, throwing chairs around and screaming.

I flinched when a chair went through the window, and at that, I ran. Thank goodness I'm not in there anymore.