Abused by Styles (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 1- The Beginning

*Marisa's POV*

I whimpered in fear as he raised the beer glass just above my head. My head already hurt from just yesterday's beating and I didn't want to add to that. It seemed like his hand was moving in slow motion, daring me to move away or say something.

"P-please don't." I begged, my courage no longer in existence. I immediately regretted my words and mentally cursed myself because I know it would only make him more angry. This was already too much to handle, I didn't need to add to that.

"I said don't talk, you fucking slut!" And with those final words, my father smashed the glass against my head, causing me to black out.

This happened most days and I was lucky if I could escape a day with hardly any marks.

But I'm just grateful that I'm still alive and that his craziness hasn't killed me. Well hasn't killed me completely.

***

My eyes fluttered open as I took in all the gleaming lights, causing me to groan. I rubbed my hands against my eyes trying to get my eyes accustom to the morning. At least I hoped it was morning. When you black out, the amount of time you take to wake up was on a ranging scale.

Flashbacks from last night filled my memory as I looked around for anything that would say the time. I eventually found my flip phone that was as ancient as a dinosaur and I read the time. 8:15. Shit! I was late for school and I had missed Harry's beating which meant it would just be worse after school. What a great way to start my day.

Harry had always had a schedule of beating me up in the morning and finishing it in the afternoon. He would do it behind the school where only him and his pathetic friends would see so he wouldn't get in trouble. If he did get in trouble, he would say it's my fault and hurt me even more and I really didn't want that to happen.

I threw on a cream sweater, matching it with dark jeans and my combat boots that thankfully all still fit me after years. I applied foundation to any bruises from last night but didn't get full coverage since I was running late and it was impossible to make your face seem flawless with makeup. In reality, it doesn't cover up as much as you hope it would.

And plus, I wasn't a pro makeup artist so I never could make myself look presentable unlike Harry's friends who know how to look great all the time even if it was too much makeup.

I envied them for being gorgeous and stylish, traits that I would never have so nobody wants me. Or nobody wants to teach me how to use makeup properly.

I stepped over my father's sleeping body on the ground, surrounded by alcohol and various items I wish I could erase from my mind. 

***

Fortunately, the school was a walking distance which meant I didn't have to take the dreadful bus. Every morning, I would walk there and every afternoon, I would walk home. I was consistent in a jogging pace as I passed by all my neighbor's houses so I could get to school as soon as possible since I was already late and I didn't want to be any more late.

I could tell my neighbors were concerned about me considering my mom had passed away a couple of years ago and I always came home from Harry's beatings crying. They never saw me with a smile or with friends but they never did anything about it, keeping their distances.

The Styles were the only ones who would talk to us because Anne and Robin had the kindest hearts and saw the best in everyone. I thought about this all as I continued jogging to school.

"Marisa, pleasure seeing you." The secretary gave me a warm smile as I entered hell, the one place as worse as home. I smiled back and she gave me a late pass to hand to my teacher. I saw Miss Buckles, the secretary a lot since I often came in late because of my father and she would always give me a warm smile, encouraging me to be positive.

Sometimes, I wonder if she could tell that I was being abused by my father and Harry or know that something is going on. But if she truly knew about everything, she would get me help.

***

The school day dragged on, second by second. The only thing that kept me going at school was that if I survived these last few years, I could escape and be out of here forever. I wouldn't have to deal with Harry and my father abusing me daily. I could start my life over and gain confidence and a life that's worth living.

Usually Harry came straight at me once the final bells rung. But there were days like this one where Harry never came to beat me up. I've always wondered where he was or what he was doing but I never had the courage to ask. If I asked Harry about his business, he would just hurt me more. That's Harry in a nutshell for you.

My feet quickened as I walked to my house so if Harry did change his mind to beat me up, I would already be home. Away from Harry and his gang.

However, my house wasn't much better than school. They were both living hells with me constantly getting pushed around. As soon as I burged through my front door, I saw that the beer cans had been picked up! I smiled slightly at the fact that my father had given up drinking! But as on cue, my father had strutted out of his bedroom, twirling a drink in his hand, Who was I kidding? My father would never give up drinking, because it was his only escape! As much as I hated my father abusing me, at least it would distract him from my mother. It wasn't a good distraction but at least it was something from remembering our beautiful mother who passed away because of me.

"Get ready, bitch. We aren't eating here." He slurred, stumbling towards me. He looked me up and down and just chucked to himself. My face reddened as he looked at me, it seems like whenever my father acknowledges me, I just loose confidence and my face heats up because whatever I say is used against me.

"Where are we going?" I asked curiously in reply. I didn't go many places with my father because all he wanted to do was drink and stay away from me instead of hanging out and helping his only daughter.

"The neighbors." He slurred, once again. He wasn't able to stand still and kept moving around or making movements.

There was only one set of neighbors that talked to us. And they were the Styles family. It looks like I'm hanging out with my bully tonight.