Deciding My Direction (on hold to edit)

Deciding My Direction

I smiled humorlessly at the mirror attached to my wall, seeing the girl that no one liked, not even herself. I didn't even flinch as I touched the bruises covering my cheeks and arms. I rolled my eyes as I heard my door hit my bedroom wall, my drunken father stumbling in and mumbling random gibberish.

"Where my dinner?" He slurred, grabbing my short hair and pulling me up from my chair. I didn't make a sound to show him that I was in pain. I only gave him a fake smile and answering him, getting a slap across the face because he didn't like my response.

"Hurry up and make it. Now. Im hungry." He snapped, shoving me to the floor.

"I'm going." I mumbled getting on my hands and knees as I went to get up, but before I was on my feet, a boot was forced into my stomach. I gagged, clutched my stomach and stood up.

"Get up, whore. You like being on your knees, don't you?" He snarled shoving me out the room and towards the kitchen as soon as I found my feet. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes tightly when I heard his bedroom door slam shut. I slowly made it to the kitchen, holding onto my aching stomach with one hand. I held still one moment, then two, soon hearing the sound of a break for me. He was asleep and snoring once again.

I sighed, trudging back to my room and closing the door, not even bothering to lock it. I knew if I locked it he would break it down once again, and I would have to pay to fix it. I sat on my bed and pulled the razorblade from my desk drawer, rolling up both my sleeves and looking at the lines covering every inch of my arm from my palm to my elbow. I stared with a blank expression before adding a few lines to my mile long list already. I smiled sickly down at the blood appearing on my arms, standing up and grabbing something to wrap them while they bled.

My arms matched perfectly, every line perfectly matching the other in every single place. If they weren't perfect, I'd have to make them that way. I rolled my sleeves down over my wrappings, looking at my calendar, counting the days until I could escape for a few hours. I looked, rubbing the date of the One Direction concert with an actual smile. I only had to live two more weeks.

I bit my cut lip, walking towards the kitchen to start making his dinner in case he woke up. I'm glad I went and started when I did, because if I hadn't, I would have been in even more trouble. As soon as I finished the food he stumbled in half asleep, shoving me to the floor and grabbing the food, kicking me on his way out of the kitchen. I blinked slowly, trying to see if my head was bleeding from hitting the oven as I fell. My eyesight was blurring and my hands were shaking as I heard him slam his door again.

He had been like this since Mum died five years ago, and as much as I miss Mum, I miss how my dad used to be too. I used to be his little flower, not his punching bag. I hadn't realized I was crying until I felt the tears hit my arms, and I raised a shaky hand to rub my eyes and wipe away my tears. I stood up shakily slowly making my way to my room to change for work. I worked at a diner that was only a five minute walk from here, and a local library on weekends.

I got changed quickly, putting makeup on to cover the visible bruises on my face and tugged on a jacket. I snuck into the hallway, making sure I didn't make a single sound to wake him up. I had been doing this for two years, so I knew he would be asleep for my entire four to five hour shift. I thought I was safe for the night when I started to open the door, but I felt his hand wrap into my hair and toss me to the ground.

"What the hell do you think youre doing?" He snarled, placing his large boot on my chest and holding my down. I gasped, trying to suck in some air to answer.

"To work, so I can pay the bills." I gasped, gripping my sleeve ends.

"Hurry the hell back. I'll be expecting food." He snapped once again, lifting his foot and then falling onto the couch. The air filled my lungs quickly, and I began breathing heavily. I stood up, escaping from the house quickly as I ran to work, hoping I wouldn't be late. I burst in the door, breathing extremely heavily and gripping my knees.