The Homeless Girl

Chapter 1: No options

Rachel's POV

I came out of the city bus starring at a lovely house. There was pink bricks and three windows in front. There was a nice, cute, small backyard and some stone stairs for the entrance. Two expensive cars were parked in front of that house. I recognize it because it's my house. The first thing you'll think is that this is the "American Dream" house and that the owners are probably rich with a happy family living inside of it.

But that ain't the case...

Psychologically, it's one of the most "America's Most Wanted" houses and it's sad, horrible and very dark. The pink bricks are an act. We don't want our house to seam suspicious because we live in a neighborhood just like everyone else. We decided to put a backyard so strangers will think that a complete family lives there but it's not true. It's only my father and me, Rachel that lives in it.

My lovely thoughts were now changing to a sad, scared and depressive thought knowing that I'm gonna have to climb up these stone stairs and enter in this horrible house! I took out my key from my bag and was gonna unlock the door but my hand froze. It was like if it was meant to be, a reflex. I turned my head the other way and saw a few cars passing the street with lovable families inside. I wish it was my case... I turned my head back to this door and finally decided to go in... which was probably the worse mistake of my whole entire life! The only thing I wanted to do is lock myself in my room and never ever COME OUT. Fuck it, it won't happen.

- RACHEL, GET YOUR ASS OVA' HERE!!!

Yes, the person that's talking to me in this disrespectful way is my father. Well, that's if you call him one.

- WHY CAN'T I HEAR FOOTSTEPS?! DON'T LET ME GRAB YO' ASS!

When he says that, it's something urgent. I ran up the physically nice but psychologically unhappy, brown, wooded stairs and followed the smell of fresh weed coming from the kitchen. Just looking at his figure made me wanna throw up. The good thing is that we have no physical resemblance what's so ever. We really don't look the same. My father is black and I'm light skinned. He has black hair but mine's brown and silkier.

- Where the fuck were you? he said smoking in my face.

- At school, why?

He stared, oh wait! He never stares at me! He glared and continued to indulge his cigar.

- Make me a sandwich.

- What?

- I SAID, MAKE ME A SANDWICH YOU FUCKIN' COWARD!

I walked, normally near the island of my kitchen to get a plate out. Ya'll are wondering why don't I react to his comments. When your so called "father" has been abusing you for at least 8 years of your life, you kind of get use to it. Plus, that's not even the worse he can do. I took two slices of white bread out and added some mustard on one side and mayonnaise on the other slice. I cut some tomatoes and onions and spread them on both sides. I finish it off with some smoked turkey and closed the sandwich. 

It looked hella good and I was proud of what I was able to do. Cooking. The best part of the day. I gave him the sandwich and just stood there, waiting. He grabbed the plate from my hands, made it bang on the table, and took a bite of it. A smile formed on my face until he almost threw up on it. 

- THAT WAS SOME NASTY SHIT!! ARE YOU TRYNA KILL ME?! UH?! ANSWER MA DAMN QUESTION!!

Yup, he didn't like it. Oh well. I'll try, next time. 

- No, I wasn't trying to kill you. You told me to make a sandwich and so I did.

- I TOLD YOU TO MAKE A GOOD MOTHAFUCKIN' ASS SANDWICH! NOT SOME POISON SHIT! ARE YOU TRYNA KILL ME?! he said putting his fist at me.

"Ok, he's not playing anymore!"

- No, dad, no! Please don't hurt m-

He put his hand, smelling like weed on my mouth. I wanted to cough so badly but this nigga is extremely STRONG! He threw me against the wall making me knock my head very hard. He undid his belt that was on his waist with still one hand on my mouth and slapped me in the face.

That's another scar I'm adding to my collection.

- I'm yo' daddy! I'M YO' DADDY! HOW CAN YOU BE SO UNGRATEFUL?! WHY THE FUCK YOU WANNA KILL ME WITH A DAMN SANDWICH?!

"HEY! If there's someone in this house that wants to kill someone, it's gotta be you!"

He slapped me again, harder this time.

- DON'T YOU EVER DO THIS AGAIN!! DON'T YOU EVER, BITCH!

He pulled away from me, letting me time to breathe. I slowly put my fingers touching my cheek. It was burning and swollen. Tears came rushing down my face. Not because it hurts me physically. Mostly because he insulted the only talent I could ever show him. The one thing I love to do. Cook.

- OH BITCH, ARE YOU CRYING!! I SHOULD BE THE ONE IN THEM DAMN TEARS! I ALMOST GOT KILLED BY AN ASS!

He laughed at himself. One of his most devilish laughs ever. He closed the kitchen door and locked it. There you go again, I'm trapped. I slid my body on the floor and started crying. You guys are probably thinking why didn't I call the police. Why didn't I escape if there was three large windows in front. Why didn't I just stay at my friend's house and tell them everything. 

The situation is harder than it seams...

My father has connections with a lot of people all around the city.

Sometimes, I think they're watching me. I have no choice but to go home.

There's no options...

____________________

That's chapter one for ya'll! It's important for you guys to tell me what yall think about or if theirs stuff I gotta change or add.

Otherwise, don't forget to vote, comment and fan me!

- Alexia <3