Blinded

Chapter 13

I sat in the locked closet in my dads room just fiddling with my fingers. Yesterday, there was a mysterious knock on the door. I had no clue who it was, dad wouldn't tell me. He hasn't let me out of the closet since.

I'm surprised he hasn't done anything to me yet. I figured he would be very mad at me and ready to hurt me. When he tried locking me into the closet, I accidentally clawed his arms. I didn't want to let go of him, I didn't want to be in this closet. So it was my only chance of getting out.

Didn't work out so well.

I thought this was going to be a really good Winter Break for once. But unfortunately it hasn't been. Christmas is next week and from the looks of it I will not be seeing Niall again. Probably not ever.

When he takes his flight, he's gone. Nothing says he will try to get back in touch, especially not after what my dad caused. I doubt Niall's even tried getting ahold of me once. If he cared as much as I thought he did, he probably would have stopped by at least.

-

Many many hours passed and I couldn't stand being in this small space for much longer. I also was in great need of the bathroom.

All of a sudden, I heard a door creak open and footsteps following after. Then without warning, a knock on the closet door. "How ya' doing in there Krystal?" My dad asked. A hint of tease was in his voice.

"Well, leave me in here much longer and your closet and potentially clothes should have a new sent." I told him, hoping he would let me out.

"Whats that supposed to me?" He asked me, sternly. "Do you really want to know, James. Really?"

With in a few seconds the closet door bursts open. My dad pulled me up by my shirt and forcefully, shoved me against the wall. "OW!" I yelled in pain.

"What did you call me?" He asked through his teeth. "N-nothing" I told him closing my eyes.

He let go of me after thirty seconds, and I felt relieved.

"Go get a shower! You stink." My dad said walking out of the room and down stairs.

-

A few days passed by and still no word from Niall. I wanted to call him or text him so bad, but maybe he didn't want to talk anymore. I don't want to force myself towards him. I mean, he is a world famous popstar.

My dad took these last two days off of work, he told me he needed to gain my trust. I take it he's scared I will run away or get someone to turn him in for me. But quite honestly, I'm not going anywhere until my face clears up.

I scooted myself out of bed, exhausted. I haven't been able to sleep the past couple of nights for some reason. Once I had stood to my feet, I shuffled my feet out of my bedroom and to the bathroom.

I shut the door behind me, walking straight up to the sink. Luckily, my face looks a lot better than what it had a few days back. Possibly, it could look almost decent with a little make-up by Monday.

I pulled off my shirt, leaving me in a rather old tank top of mine.

I looked and examined my shoulders and upper arms. These bruises were by far, way worse than my face. By my guess, I'm thinking that by the time my face is heeled, even if my arms aren't, a jacket or sweatshirt could cover it up.

I turned around to look at myself through the stand-up mirror by my shower, to get a better look at my body.

Lifting up my shirt ever so slightly, my bruise revealed itself. I bit my bottom lip trying not to cry as I gently ran my finger across the purple and blue spot.