Where I Found Her (Makoto x Abused Reader)

Her Story

(Your POV)

My father always told me I was a mistake every time I did something to his disliking. "I'll never love a girl as imperfect as you," he'd say. The first time he said that to me, it struck daggers into my heart. I'd been living with dangerously severe anxiety trying to live up to his expectations. But the more I tried, the more I got hurt. It was like no matter what I did, he'd still look down on me and hate me. My mother, however, loved me very much. "Daddy's going under a lot of stress," she'd say. "He doesn't mean what he says. He loves you very, very much." I didn't realize, up until I turned about seven years old, that my mother was actually terrified of him. 

It didn't use to be that way. I can remember some fun times I had with my family, before Dad started drinking. We'd go on picnics in the park, we'd go on walks, my mother would always kiss him before he left for work; I even saw them dancing a few times in the kitchen when my mother was making dinner.  I don't really know when all this went away. It sort of just did. 

When I was ten, that's when my mother got breast cancer. She was at the hospital most of the time, and I never really got to see her. Around that time was when I noticed him getting more violent. He started hitting me more often, even when I did nothing wrong. 

She died when I was eleven. She looked like an angel when she was being buried. Her long, curly hair was braided in some areas, she had on a simple white dress that looked like a nightgown for a princess, she was holding a bouquet of eleven white roses with one single red rose in the middle. She loved that flower combination. "You see the red rose?" she'd ask me. "You see how different and prettier it is from the other roses?  That's because those who are different are the ones more appreciated in life. They stand out and leave their own mark on this earth. They're the ones who are remembered." I think she told me that because she was referring that I was the red rose. That no matter what my father told me, I would be loved. 

After the funeral, my father and I drove home in silence. Then, when we got home, I went straight to bed and cried. I cried for months it seemed. A lot of the times he'd hurt me for crying. He'd hurt me even more for talking to him. "Just leave me alone!" He'd shout. "I don't need you! You don't exist to me! Take care of yourself!" 

When I turned fourteen, it got worse. He started getting into drugs. First he smoked weed, then he went straight to meth. To make money he became a drug dealer. His buyers would come over to our house personally to purchase the drugs. He figured that since he had a daughter, no one would be suspicious of him.  Then at fifteen, he realized he wanted more money. So if they paid extra, they'd get to do things to me. Whatever they pleased. I lost my virginity then. He'd choke me until I couldn't talk or scream if I called out for help. So, I learned to keep quiet. 

It was my birthday the day I ran away to the beach. I turned sixteen. That night my father decided to try to kill me before word got out of what he was doing to me. I had gotten out of the shower and went to my bed room. I shut my bedroom door behind me and found him standing there with a knife in his hand. Next thing I know I'm thrashing around on the ground, trying to dodge the blade. He got a lot of cuts and gashes on me, but luckily, no deep wounds. I managed to get out from under his grip, and I jumped out my window. Thankfully it was open, and we lived in a one story house. 

I ran to the place I loved. Where the ocean would pick you up and gently take you away from the world. Where the fish would swim contently near the shore where the waves had carried them. I squirmed into a little opening I found in the bushes. It was probably made by some raccoons or something. All I know is that it was the safest place for me to go at that moment. I must've been sitting there, trembling from the cold on my bare skin for thirty minutes. That's when I heard footsteps. There was a man standing along the shore looking at the waves. I couldn't make out what he was wearing or what he looked like due to the shrubs. The night was as clear as day, but because of the thicket, I could hardly see anything. 

Then I caught a glimpse of the sharp knife in his belt loop. I shivered out of fear. The bushes rustled violently. The figure stopped and turned around. The footsteps were coming closer and closer. I shivered again. The figure was only feet away. That's when the rage of all the years I had been through swam through me. I hated him. I hated everything he was. Everything related to him. Except for my mother. I bet he forced her into marrying him. That bastard. 

The person was only inches away when I jumped out of the bushes and started strangling him. His knife had cut my arm then flew a few feet away from us. I couldn't let him retrieve it. I was shaking I was so furious. Die, die, die! I felt like a demon had crawled into me and was controlling my every move. For the first time in years, I felt alive. That's when I realized how soft his hands were. My father had the roughest hands. It was like he replaced his skin with sand paper and steal wool. They hurt. But these hands... they were soft and warm. That's when I felt sharp pains in my wrists. He had dug his nails into my arm. I screamed and fell off the stranger. He looked down at me with terror in his gaze. Then his eyes went soft. The kindness in them reminded me of my mother. That's when I burst into tears. I missed her so much. This pain I felt killed me. But something in this man told me I could trust him with all my heart.

Next thing I knew he was picking me up bridal style and carrying me away to a new place. That was the day Makoto Tachibana saved me. It was the best birthday gift I had ever been given. I could never ask for anything else. 

These were the thoughts that kept me up that night, laying next to him in his bed once again; he was sound asleep. After his friends went home, we talked. And I told him everything about my life. He wanted to know so he could use that to convince his parents. They were coming back tomorrow. I was hopelessly anxious as to how they would respond. I don't want to leave here. I don't ever  want to leave here. I can't. I love him. I love him so much.

I tried to keep this from being graphic as much as I could. And I'm sorry if the rape in this chapter offended you. Hope you liked it!