Looks Can Be Deceiving

Chapter 1; Hellish Days

Jess PoV

Waking up tends to be something I dread. Not a single day has passed where I wanted to wake up after the first time my father beat me. And it's all because mom died. It's not like it's her fault, but I can't help but wish she hadn't died.

Ever since my mother died he changed, but I was so young then and I am unable to recall just how much he used to care. That's if he even cared in the first place.

It's different now. So it doesn't matter. There is no going back to the way things were either no matter how much we both wanted to. I wondered if he even wanted to. A father. That's what he was supposed to be to me. Some one who cares, loves and adores the hell out of me. That's not what he is.

What he is, is a tormentor, an abuser. Satan incarnate. A reminder of how shitty my life has been. A reminder that Mom is gone. A reminder of how much I look just like her. A reminder of my fathers hatred for me just because I look so much like her.

I slowly rise up on my bed, careful of the injuries I had revived the night prior. Both from him and from work. Now, one might wonder what kind of job a girl of 17 could possibly handle while coming home with more bruises than necessary?

Well, I am a fight coach. As in underground fights. Before you think too far ahead, no, I don't fight. I just train the fighters. It pays better and I also have a close relationship with some of the guys I train, which means protection and help when I need it.

I think the only bad part about being so close to them is that they all get way over protective of me even though I'm their trainer. Why? Well, they like to say I'm tiny, but I like to say I'm fun sized while they're all fucking giants. Whilst I'm only 4' 8" in my defense they're all freaking above 6 foot tall so of course I'd seem abnormally small! Another reason is that they're older than me. So they decided to take up the roles as my older brothers. In fact even the youngest of them is a little bit older than me and he uses his age to justify any overprotective actions.

Anyways, I get beaten up at home, then I come here and get hit a few times and of course, the guys don't know why I'm all beaten up before practices. And I hope they never will because then they might freak the hell out on me. Why? Because I know how to fight and protect myself. They are also under the impression that my dad is no longer abusive as he did go to rehab, I just failed to let the know that he relapsed.

Why don't you fight against him then, you ask. Stop him from hurting you, you say. Well I wish it was that easy. For some reason, whenever I see him my body freezes in absolute terror and I can't fight back. I've tried before and guess what? I almost died. I had to cancel all of my work for the next two weeks afterwords so I could at least be able to walk. That was when the boys found out and put my dad into rehab.

When I got back to my sessions with the guys and they saw how beaten up I was they went ape shit, and that's another reason I won't tell them it was my dad. They might kill him, since they paid for his rehab and made sure he was clean and sober before allowing him to come back home.

I looked over at my clock as I sat in bed, and saw it was just barely 5 in the afternoon. I was sore, no duh, mostly because it was Friday, my dad got home before me today and saw that the house wasn't cleaned yet, and he was aggravated than he usually is. He beat me unconscious and apparently he had the decency to carry me up to bed afterwords.

Fucking prick.

I winced as I stood up from my bed, not allowing myself to make much noise as I headed to the bathroom. On the way I grabbed my work out gear, undergarments and a towel. Slowly entering the bathroom and locking the door, I take a shower as quickly as I can  and put on my clothes before braiding my hair out of my face.