Broken

(Annie's P.O.V)

When I woke up, my room was dark. I looked over to my bedside table and read the clock. 2am. I groaned as I swung my head back into my pillow, shoving the duvet blankets over my head.

That's when I heard it again. A low bang coming from downstairs. I listened, and the sound came again. It grew louder with each passing moment. I decided to go downstairs and check it out.

As I climbed out of bed, my feet hit the cold, hard wood floor, immediately sending shivers through my entire body. I felt my way through my room to my door, as it was dark and my eyes were adjusting.

I walked down the long hallway, one hand on each wall. It didn't take me

too long before I had reached the stairs. The crashing sounds were pulsing through my veins as I slowly descended the slick steps.

I could see a faint light coming from the kitchen, because the door was not fully shut. I crept silently to the slightly opened door, pressing my ear lightly against it. I could hear my father's deep voice grumbling curse words under his breath as he threw things around the room. That was what I heard. He was throwing things again, which means he's drunk.

This didn't surprise me at all. Knowing my father, he would be drunk everyday if I didn't hide the liquor in a different place every once in a while.

I turned to leave the kitchen door when suddenly it burst open. I let out a scream as I felt my hair being pulled, hard.

I was dragged out the room by my curls, my father pulling harder than usual. Much harder. All I could do was scream as I was literally dragged.

"Shut up! Do want an even worse punishment?!" My father slurred. Why was I being punished? Or right. Because my father hates me. The next thing I felt was a pang of pain as I was slung against the wall. I cradled my left arm in my right, knowing that is was now dislocated. I hadn't even noticed I was crying until now, as my face felt cold from the moisture.

"Who do you think you are? Leaving me in this hell hole to rot! I thought we had something, Lisa!" My father yelled at me. What the hell was he talking about? It was then I realized all the bottles scattered around the floor. He was so drunk he thought I was one of the many girls that could be my mother. My dad had so many one night stands, I stopped keeping track.

"If you're going to keep playing this crap with me, then leave and take this to remember me by!" He said through gritted teeth. And with that, he slapped me across the right cheek, making my head swivel. I immediately pressed my hand to the stinging area of my face, completely ignoring my arm.

As soon a my dad turned around to chuck his now empty beer bottle across the room, I made a beeline for the stairs, still holding my cheek. I knew it would most likely bruise by tomorrow, but I wasn't too worried, as I have many more bruises that I should be worried about.

I banged into walls and doors running up to my room, my tears blocking my vision. When I finally got to my room, I slammed the door shut, locked it, and threw myself on my bed. I sobbed into my pillow, like I did every night. 'Why did this have to happen to me?' I thought. 'Why does my father have to hate me? 'Why does everybody else hate me?' All these familiar questions ran through my head, causing me to fall asleep, exhausted, on my now drenched pillow.