You Have To Have Faith (On Hold)

Chapter One

The car came to a sudden stop, causing me to hit my head on the dashboard. There's no doubt in my mind he did that on purpose. My father turned to me with a scowl on his face, looking at me with disgust and hatred.

"Get out." he muttered. He shoved my schoolbag into my chest causing me to wince in pain. Bruises from last night still covered my body, and I was positive that I had a damaged a rib somewhere. He described it as a "back to school reminder". A reminder that if anyone finds out about my "punishments" he'll do much worse than damage a rib. Talking about being abused to other people will obviously get me beaten senseless if that wasn't obvious enough, but if a teacher even notices a bruise or a cut anywhere on my body, the beating I'd get from that little "slip up" may as well be just as bad.

I still remember that time in eighth grade when I decided to take off my jacket during class because I was hot, and the teacher noticed the bruises that ran down my arms. She called my dad and asked him about it, in which he played it off saying we recently played paintball and I had been hit a lot. She seemed to buy it as she never asked again. My father on the other hand is not one to "forgive and forget" and gave me the worst beating of my life once I came home from school. I don't remember much, everything was a blur when I woke up. All I really remember was my little sister crying her heart out beside me when I woke up, telling me I had been asleep for four days, coughing blood and wheezing every breath.

She said she thought I had died.

For a moment I wished that I had. But I knew I was the only thing keeping my dad from turning his wrath on her, so I couldn't die just yet.

I noticed my fathers lips twitching up into a smirk as he watched me in my weakened and battered state. I wished I could spit in his ugly face, but instead I just swung the school bag over my shoulder and opened the car door.

As I was stepping out I felt a hand grip my wrist and I whipped around. His beady black eyes stared into my blue ones as his grip tightened. "Remember to keep your mouth shut. I better not get a phone call asking why your limping down the halls, got it? Not a word, or else I'll break Ellie too." My eyes widened at the mention of my sister as chills ran down my spine. Looking satisfied, he released my wrist and I crawled out of the car. I watched as his old pick up truck sped down the street until it was out of view.

I stopped for a few moments staring at the highway he pulled off on to catch my breath. I hate him. I hate him so much. Just the thought of him disgusts me.  Reluctantly and turned around towards the high school and took a deep breath.

A big, colorful banner spread across the front of the building for everyone to view.

Welcome back to Clinton High.

May have well been welcome back to prison.

I began walking towards the school as I took in my surroundings. In the back of the school I could see the bad boys leaning against the brick wall, smoking and wolf whistling to the popular girls that passed by in their tight designer skirts. Near the entrance were the nerds wearing Star Wars T-shirts and having a heated discussion about how Chewbacca is very different from Bigfoot. A few of the popular guys rode in on their skateboards, doing that weird "bro hug" with each other, while a guy and a girl were making out on one of the tables near the bike rack. Luckily Mr. Quinton came up to them and told them to quit sucking each-others faces off and get a room. He was defiantly
my all time favorite teacher.

As I made my way to the door I froze as I recognized the group of living Barbie dolls blocking the front door. Kaitlin, Melissa, and Britney all stood by the front door complementing each-other on their new designer clothes and manicured nails. I couldn't help but role my eyes as I looked around for another way inside.