Illegally Legal

Illegally Legal: ~~ Prologue ~~

 ~~ Prologue ~~

Do ever look back at old pictures and wonder what it felt like to be happy? Well I sure as hell wish I was that innocent girl in the picture in myhand I was licking the lolly without a care in the world. My Dad stood proudly beside me his eye’s shinning with pride as he looked down at me. Back then I didn’t know that a couple of years from then I would be here. Back then I had no clue that my life would turn into a living hell.I’ve become a girl that couldn’t be identified by her own father if he walked past. I stared at the long mirror my long brown hair thrown in a messy bun. My tiny black shorts showed off my tan long legs I pulled at them uselessly  trying to cover my legs even if it’s a bit. My tight tank top showing enough cleavage actually more than needed. I hated these clothes. My eyes flickered to my arms I ran my fingers lightly over my patterned bruises on my arms wincing slightly as my fingers dug lightly into my tender flesh. I threw my picture under my pillow trying to hide it as best as possible that was the only picture I had of my family.

“Roxanna!! Where the f*ck are you?” my foster father’s voice bellowed I straightened my back getting physically and emotionally ready to face what was awaiting me down stairs .

“I’m coming father” I ran down the stairs his voice sent shivers down my spine I could hear the slight slurp in his words from the alcohol he’s drank. My foster father didn’t like to be called anything but father not that I thought of him as one or that he actually treated me as his daughter more like a punch bag or a piece of dirt stuck to his shoe.

“What took you so f*cking long?” he looked ready to murder someone his eyes narrowed angrily at me his hand slightly shaking with furry and anger he banged his clenched fist to the glass table that sat beside him angrily. I could see it shake from the force of his hit. I jumped slightly as his eyes made contact with mine they held so much hatred I didn’t think it was possible to hate someone this much. The murderous look in his eyes made me feel slightly nauseous. I knew that in a situation like this it’s better to keep my mouth shut or the beating after will be 10 times worse I knew this from experience.

“You f*cking whore. Answer me!!” his commanding voice vibrated through the walls sending a shiver down my spine fear travelled through my body.

 I lowered my head shamefully and stared at the blood stained limy carpet I truly only did that because it meant that he had less access to my face. I hated it when I got a busted lip it hurts like hell or a black eye it’s so sore I would rather keep my face out of this.

  

He grabbed my hair and tugged at it violently making me face the bright red walls the chipped paint revealing a ugly orange colour of the wallpaper that hid underneath the paint.

I held my tears of pain. Tears only made it worse in situations like this apparently only weak people cry and if I cry over this he would teach me to cry over something worth it he probably means cutting off my arm or something like that.