Forsaken Blood

- FURY -

"Jesus Christ Dad!" Layla hissed at her father, "why must you always force me with your stupid religion?"

SLAP! He sent her head flying sideways as his large, rough hand connected against her face. The force felt like a fire had consumed her whole right cheek. An instant headache grew upon her with a burn that ran straight to her heart.

"Don't you dare use the Lord's name in vain again, Layla," he growled.

She fell to the floor hunched over, wondering if she were to expect anymore abuse.

"Get up, Layla. Stop acting like a child!" He hissed.

She slowly found her feet, and put herself at the far end of the marble table. Her hand held her head up as she gazed out of the dining room window. She was studying the olive-green ivy, watching it slowly brown and lose its leaves. Trying to think of anything other than the life she led.

Winter was coming soon.

Her father began to pace. She knew he was angry. She could tell by his tense shoulders and blatant huffing.

Her father, John, seemed like your typical church-going, middle-aged, family man. He had a few extra pounds but was always neatly dressed in his usual blue and white checkered shirt and tan trousers.

"What's wrong with you, Layla, you ungrateful child?" He said, "you know I only want the best for you. You will not be going to that party tonight."

Layla sighed and shifted her eyes to avoid catching her father's judgy glare. His frustration started to surface again.

"Layla, I'm talking to you!" He snapped.

She dare not mention the slap in fear of another. But she needed to make a stand and say what was truly on her mind.

"You just don't get it, Dad!" Layla struggled to hold her tears back, "all you do is lecture me... do your homework, come downstairs for prayer, do your chores. Since when do you ever ask about me? Do you even know how I feel? I have two parents and it's like they don't even see me. I feel all alone with no one to talk to."

Her father turned to walk away.

"See! This is exactly what I'm talking about. You don't want to know anything else other than what you preach! And Mom's always complaining about her fights with Aunt Sophie or how to make sure everything always looks perfect for this snobby neighborhood," Layla sighed and started again slowly. "I hardly see you, Dad. You're always working night shift, Mom works the day and I'm stuck somewhere in the middle with parents that don't want to know anything about me."

John stopped where he stood. He scratched his head and took off his reading glasses. He sighed loudly and sat down next to her. Layla didn't give him the chance to even think about what to say. As he sat down, she stood up and was out the room in seconds.

She stormed upstairs making sure he could hear her loud stomps on the wooden staircase and slammed her bedroom door behind her. All she wanted to do was scream, but instead threw herself onto her perfectly made double-sized bed, and buried her face into the pillow.

I'm so tired of this... she thought to herself, I need to get out of here...

Layla grabbed her big brown teddy that her loving grandmother had given her not too long before she passed last year.

"I miss you so much, Gran," Layla said.

Holding the bear tightly in her arms, she broke down into tears, feeling the constant pain and neglect, whimpering for what seemed like hours, until her energy was spent, and drifted off to sleep.