Worthless Child-- DICONTINUED

Chapter Two- Stupid Decisions (Changed)

 "You alright there?" 

 That is the only thing filling my mind. Is it possible for anyone to sound and look so attractive all at the same time apart from models and actors? And if so, then it never happened to me. I've never really had any good luck. Not since the age of five. Ever since I was of that age, every thing became hell. my parents had started arguing more and it had become a little physical. My mom would slap my dad and he would do the same. Visa Versa.

 Also the bullying from my brothers had started too. They would trip me over, laugh at me, mess up my room, everything like little kids would do to haunt the ones they hate.

 When mom went out to work, they would pick on me even more. They would get me in trouble with dad and then he would put me in time out all the time. He never really got that much physical until mom left. He blames me for it and I don't blame him. They could barely afford the twins, but it was impossible to raise me.

 "Freya, John is in his office, he wants to see you, probably to give you your check." Alan says grumpily, pulling me out of my deep thinking. I nodded and start to make my way to his office for what I hope it was for.

 Saturday only meant one thing; Pay day.

 As I make my way past the tables I start to feel kind of nervous. I have never felt nervous before. Is it that I knew he assumed what was going on? And he is going to confront me on it? I hope not, I just want to get my cheque and go home. . .  if you could even call it that anymore.

 "Hey Freya, got your cheque here." I smile and walk over to the small chestnut desk, that holds a simple computer, a few stacks of paper, and a pen. "I want you to take a seat." Crap! He's never wanted me to take a seat, why can't he let me go? Why can't he just leave it? After two years of knowing me and suspecting something, he is finally going to try and help me.

 "I want you to tell me goes on at home."

 "No comment." He sighs before speaking again.

 "If I expect is right, tell me who does it."

 "No comment." I keep my jaw tight. I'm not backing down from this.

 "Okay, How long had this been going on?" His voice is getting lower, and I can tell he is frustrated that he isn't getting any answers from me.

 "No comment." I said this a lot more slowly now, hopefully he would get the hint.

 "Why won't you trust me? I could help you." His voice is strained, but I'm not giving up, and by the sounds of it, he wasn't either, so I gave it to him straight.

 "I don't need help, not from you, not from anybody, so can you just leave it? If you care about me . . . you would." Maybe that was a little harsh, but it's true, I have survived the hits, the constant yelling, blaming and glass smashing against the wall. I had survived this since the age of seven, to the age of seventeen. I am strong enough. Ten years of dealing with it on my own. "Can I just have my cheque please? I need to go, my dad and brothers will be home soon, and I need to do their dinner." He sighs but nods while handing me me the piece of paper.

 I storm out, and almost run to my car. When I reach it, I get in and close the door, the tears soon come falling along. I scream as loud as I can as more and more tears leave my eyes. I have three hours, to get everything sorted; the food the beds and everything else.

 I drive down the sunny street; since it was summer, darkness won't come up till around nine. I ignored the staring as I drove down the street past the speed limit.