Meeting Mr. Gang Leader ✔️

Chapter 11- Pits p.o.v.

*The first beginning of this chapter may be a trigger. You can skip this chapter if you'd like, it's just a small filler chapter. For the ones who don't want to skip the whole thing, I'll put where it's safe to read at*
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I laid back against my head board, staring lazily at the wall. The image of Chloes dad smacking her was fresh in my mind, and there was nothing I could do to erase it.

I know how Chloe feels, to be smacked around by somebody you used to look up to, somebody who you thought loved you so much that they would never lay a hand on you. Then to find out you were wrong. Dead wrong.

My eyes slowly traveled to the scars on my arms. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried not to remember, but the flash back came back to me.

"Clayton," my father sneered. "Clayton come here!"

I quickly obeyed, not wanting to upset daddy anymore than he already was. I kept my head down, like instructed, and stopped walking when I seen daddys boots.

"Worthless," he muttered. "Stupid. Fat. Disappointment."

I was reminded every day what I was. I'm the reason mommy left, I was the reason mommy don't love daddy anymore.

"Nobody loves you!" Daddy shouted. "Nobody has ever loved you, you worthless pile of nothing! You will never become anything special! You'll never have what your sister has! You'll never amount to anything. Why? Because you're filth."

I felt my tiny seven year old heart break. I'm nothing. I'm filth. Daddy don't love me. Mommy don't love me. I'm alone. I'm trash.

"Now," daddy replied, sounding gentle. "I'm gonna make small lines on your arm okay? And with every line, I want you to shout out what you are, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, dread feeling my tummy.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Daddy shouted.

I looked up, only to be smacked across the face.

"Don't look at me!" He spat.

He jerked out a knife, grabbing my arm and slicing it. I bit my tongue, not wanting to cry out.

Daddy squeezed my gash, yelling," what are you!"

"Worthless," I cried.

Another slice.

"Stupid!"

Another one.

"Filth!"

And the slices went on, over and over until I couldn't stand and my vision was blurry. Daddy finally let me go, telling me to go to my room and think about what I've done.

I laid on my bed, watching the red liquid spill from my arm and onto my train bed sheet. I closed my eyes, visioning what it was like before mommy left.

It's okay daddy, I thought. I forgive you.

I opened my eyes again and wiped away the tears. No crying. Men don't cry. That fucker's gone. He's in the place he deserves.