Bruises, love and lies

Chapter 1: Don't miss a spot.

"Wake up you useless piece of shit!"

I wake up to my father holding a silver flask and standing in the doorway of my room. A faint stench of alcohol and cigarettes crawls up my nose.
A quick glance at my alarm clock and the realization hits me that he just came home from a night out at a bar. He's standing at my doorway with his clothes and hair messed up taking another sip of his flask.

"I'm sorry father, do you need my help to get you to bed?" I say as I get up from my bed and walk towards him.
Almost immediately I feel his hand slap me to the ground. I look up and hold the side of my face, what else did I expect to happen?

"Y-you don't help me. Y-you are so fucking useless. I don't know w-what I've done to deserve a fucking s-shit like you, you r-ruined my life. You're the reason your m-mother killed herself, she just didn't want to deal with a fucking w-whore like you." he said struggling to get the words out.

Ouch.

My dad spits on me before turning around and leaving my room.
I walk to the mirror in my room and wipe my face with a wet towelet.
Sighing I look at my reflection, a broken girl, broken life, broken blue bell eyes, scared and bruised skin
a bloody nose. That will be a lot of cover up for tommorow, beter get some sleep so that I don't add bags under my eyes to the list.
I put my black wavy hair in a ponytail lay down on my bed, hoping I can catch a few hours of sleep for tomorrow.

After wrestling in my bed for a few hours I decide it's no use, no sleep for me tonight. I start thinking back, thinking back to how this all started.

My father started abusing me 5 years ago, right after my mother killed herself. It was a shock to everyone, especially my father. We didn't know before, we didn't notice her dull eyes, her faded smile and her silent cries. My father couldn't handle it, he had always loved her even though they always argued. He was never a drinker, but when my mom died he couldn't stop.
He would go to a bar in the evenings and come home really drunk at night. If I was awake he would yell at me and hit me, if I was asleep he would wake me.
He was often gone in the morning, gone to work. My father worked with some company where he had his own office, a perfect place to drink or to recover from a hangover.
Even sober, which my father rarely was, he would still abuse me. It wasn't alchol's fault, it was his. He just wasn't the same after my mother's death, he kept blaming it on me.

I've learned to keep my mouth shut, I can't tell anyone or my father will kill me, he threatened me before. I can't do anything because this man, the man that abuses me everyday, the reason I cry at night, the reason harm myself mentally and physically, that man is still my father. I still remember the good times we had when my mom was alive. He can't stay like this forever, I still have hope in him.

We live in a big apartment with a living room, kitchen and 3 bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. I don't expect him to give me money or to buy food or anything for me. The little money I make from my part time job I use to buy food, make up to cover the bruises and wounds and some clothing, but not a lot. I can't afford to buy clothing all the time, I only buy clothing when the few pieces I own are completely damaged. What a relief that my school uses uniforms.

School is hard, I work hard and try my best so I can hopefully get a scholarship. It's the only way I can go to college and get a good job, my father definitely wouldn't help me out and I can never get the money since I need to pay for everything myself.

Friends? I've never been good at making friends. Lili is the only friend I have, everyday I'm so grateful for her. She has always been there for me, even though she doesn't know about my father, we still trust each other. I hope that I can tell her one day.
We've been friends for over 10 years, she was there for me when my mother killed herself, I was there for her trough her parents' divorce. Without her I wouldn't have made it this far.

I close my eyes and think of my happy memories, eventually I doze off.

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Hey guys, it's me, the.. author? Nah feels weird saying that. The writer of this story. I'm sorry about the mistakes in this chapter, or any other chapter. I'm not a native English speaker, if you find mistakes, please comment it, but don't spam. I appreciate criticism but I don't appreciate hate.
Hope you liked this chapter.
Thanks for reading!