We Met In a Barn!

1

Melody's POV

"There might be a little dust on the bottle, but don't let that fool you about what's inside!" I grinned, singing a song that was stuck in my head. My dad is out at the bar right now and told me to clean the house before he got back. "I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world! Life in plastic, it's fantastic!" Now I have more songs in my head. 😣 Oh well, '\_(^.^)_/'

Now that I'm done cleaning I need to check what came in the mail~! I frowned in boredom at all the bills. "Water, electric, mortgage, some big word I can't pronounce..." My eyes kept skimming over everything making me sigh in sadness. You see, the thing is... my dad isn't the best at his job.

Ever sense my mom left him for Tom when I was 4 he became mean. Now he hits me and is always drunk. I was already super pooper smart thanks to my mom. So, when my dad dropped all of his grownup tasks on me when I turned 5 I understood most of it. Now I clean our semi-large house and pay the bills all by myself! *Cue proud smile and puffed out chest.*

The low rumble of an old dodge truck reached my ears as my dad pulled in the driveway. I waited with baited breath as the car door slammed shut. His footsteps pounded along to the beat of my heart. I winced at the slight creek the front door gave off when he opened it. I stood straight as a board and watched my dad's tall figure move into the kitchen doorway. "What are you lookin' at brat?" He scowled down at me with dead brown eyes.

"Nothing sir." Was my soft reply. I lowered my head in respect, mentally going through all his rules. "What would you like to eat sir?"

I gasped when I felt his fingers grab the back of my hair and yank my head back so my face tilted up at him. "Did I say you could speak?!" His teeth were clenched and I bit back a whimper when his grip tightened, "Answer me when I speak to you! Did I or did I not say you could speak?!"

"No sir!" I clamped my eyes shut as tears threatened to fall.

"Don't raise your voice at me you ungrateful brat!" He slapped me and shoved me to the ground. I instinctually curled into a ball; my legs covering my stomach and my arms protecting my head. He kicked and stomped on me yelling awful things. Once he was satisfied he spat his last orders at me before going upstairs. "Make me some spaghetti and get out. Don't come back till tomorrow afternoon."

I laid there for a few minutes with silent tears falling down my face. Pushing past the pain I remembered my mother's sweet words whenever I got hurt. "Shh, shh, shh. I know it hurts baby. But remember this: Pain is just weakness leaving the body. So, whenever you get hurt, smile. Because you're just getting stronger." I smiled and slowly limped to the stove. I boiled the water and heated up the sauce, reaching up to the cabinets I pulled down a plate and cup. I placed the kitchenware on the table and grabbed a fork, putting the noodles in the now boiling water I used the fork to help me stir them. I let the noodles sit while I poured sweet tea into the cup and laid out oven mits to set the hot pans on. Once that was done I turned the stove off and moved the food onto the table. Time to pack.

I trotted upstairs and into my room. The room was bare with only a wooden, twin sized bed base and on old wooden desk that had my notebook and sketchpads laid out on it. The bed base served as my bed, sad, I know. I grabbed a duffle bag and walked over to the bed, folding, rolling, and packing the thin blanket. Trotting over to my closet I grabbed a hoodie, pants, underwear, and another shirt. I hear shuffling downstairs in the kitchen signaling my dad is out of the shower. I run over to the bathroom and grab my toothbrush and some toothpaste. Now fully packed I run back to my room and climb out the window.

The warm night air comforted me and the black of the night cloaked me. I ran diagonally to the back left area of my house, going deep into the woods. There used to be a clean cut path back to the old barn but after years of neglect the weeds took over again. The barn itself was another story; I always took care of it, even at my young age. Ducking branches, jumping logs, and avoiding potholes I finally made it to the well-kept barn. I had both a food and flower garden, the flower garden standing proudly in front of the barn. Pushing the big door open I slide in and reclose it. The inside of the barn was mostly clean. An old Stingray car I was repairing was in the far right corner with tools and cloths littered around, on, and in it. There were broken phones, radios, computers and other trinkets dad brings home for me to fix in exchange for money on a metal desk to the left. I have a shelf for souvenirs and food and a mini-fridge I found and fixed full of water and soda. If you climbed up one of the many latters to the upper level you would find hay. You could see the big piles of yellow straw threatening to fall from down here.