A Gothic Love Story - Not Mine Anymore

A Gothic Love Story - Before The Freedom

"Lilith, Come here now." I just got home from school, and he's already calling me.

"Yes father?" He got up from the couch where he was drinking beer, and came towards me, wrapping the belt around his hand, making sure it was tight. I don't know what I did now, but I know, he's going to beat me.

"Why didn't you buy food yesterday, you lousy bitch?" He didn't tell me to buy food yesterday. He was sleeping on his couch all day.

"You didn't give me money dad." He got red around the face and swung the belt, hitting me on the leg. Strong. I gritted my teeth, and didn't allow my face to change expression. It'd be worse then.

"Lies. Then how did the money I had on my wallet vanish?" You spend it on booze you ignant mother fucker. But I didn't say it out loud.

"I don't know father. I didn't touch it." He got closer to me until he was right in front of me, then he slapped me so hard I fell down and hit my head on the corner of the table. Everything went dark for a few seconds and when I came to, I already had my back full of welts, and he was giving more...

I stayed absolutly silent, rigid as a board, knowing that if I moved, it'd be worse, longer, harder. It hurt, very much, but the pain of knowing it was my own father that was beating me, has been for years, was what hurt the worse.

"This is what you deserve, you good for nothing, useless, worthless, whore of a daughter. You're just like your mother, a whore, good only for fucking. Maybe I should spread you one day."

I was already frozen from pain, but this made me frozen with fear instead. He has never touched me with these intentions, and I prayed every day he would never even think it... but now... I knew him. He did what he said... I couldn't let that happen. He already took away my mother, beaten her to death, made it look like a robbery so he wouldn't get caught... he took away all the friends I've ever had, alienating me from them with the abuse, I'm 18, and I've never had a boyfriend, never been kisssed, and now he plans to take what I have left, my virginity away from me...

"Get out from my sight you pathetic excuse of a human being." He stopped hitting me when my back was red and bleeding, my skin broken in so many places they should change my name to patches..

I dragged myself, my shirt ripped and gathering all my things that had fell from the floor, up the stairs to my room. Every step was worse than agony, but I couldn't stumble. Not in front of him. Nor could I cry. He'd consider it weakness, and punish me some way.

I got to my room and closed the door as softly as I could. I took the ripped shirt off and viewed myself on the mirror. My back was badly bruised, and the gashes were bleeding profusely. There were places where they were already black, blue and purple, and I knew from experience, that if I didn't take a shower now, that I'd never get the skin healed as scareless as possible. I stumbled to the shower, now that he wasn't around for me to act. I switched the tap, so I could take an Immersion bath instead of a shower, where the water would hit the wounds, and filled the tub.

The water was hot and I gently eased myself into it. I felt like screaming, the pain in my back was so bad. I tuned of, and washed myself mechanically, while my mind wandered...

The walls in my room are black, and the bed dressing is black as well. In fact, everything is black. He says I don' deserve to have colour in my life when he has none, but in fact, he's doing me a favour. My favourite colour is black. He doesn't know. Why should he? It's not like he cares.

I have a full length mirror on a wall, and my furniture is black as well. I don't have anything dear in my room. No pictures with friends, no personal stuff. I don't have a cellphone or a tv, he deemed I didn't deserve to have them, so I didn't. All the pictures I had of my mother are gone. I arrived home one day, 3 years ago, to find my room trashed, and all the pictures I had hidden from my mother broken and ripped on the floor, the frames cracked and the glass shattered. He had arrived before I could clean everything up, so he took the opportunity to beat me. He had thrown me to the floor, aiming to where the broken glass was, and kicked me, punched me, until I was vomiting blood. I took 2 days to get all the glass off my breasts and belly.

I finished washing myself and I went to bed just in panties and shorts, not wanting the chaffing of clothing against my wounds. I didn't forget to lock the door though... After what he said, I'd never forget to lock it...

I fell asleep with a practiced deep breath, and I dreamt about my mother, us together in a field of grass, with trees. Sunny skies and beautiful animals.

Then everything turned dark, and Stephen (my father) showed up, with a shotgun, he killed her, then turned to be with hateful eyes. "Now you, bitch."

I woke up and saw the time, 9:20pm. I only slept one hour. He was eating out, so I was taking the time off to obliviation land. I forced myself to fall asleep, and this time, I didn't dream.