Owned by 4

Chapter 10

I didn't sleep last night.

I couldn't.

I kept thinking about my life and the awful events that caused me to be the person that I was.

I was weak. Even though I kept trying to convince myself that I wasn't, deep down I knew that I was.

I never stood up for myself and always tried to hide behind the crowd.

I never raised my hands in class to answer any questions even though I knew the answers to all of them.

I never say what I mean or mean what I say.

I never speak in the presence of people because I'm afraid I'll offended someone and my bullying will get worse.

I never eat in the cafeteria because I'm afraid that people will throw they're food at me.

I never do anything.

I hated my life.

I hated me.

I hated the person I let myself become; weak and broken.

After looking at the clock on my nightstand and saw that it was after 6, I got up and looked at myself in the mirror.

I looked at my dark brown hair, flowing down my back. I looked at my blue-green eyes and my slightly pink lips. My face was red and my eyes were puffy and the black bags under my eyes didn't make my appearance any better either.

I looked at my body and my legs. There were still some small scars that I could point out on my arms, legs and back.

I traced the one on my left arm, from my shoulder to a space right above my elbow joint and thought back to the night it formed itself on my skin.

I ran through the silver gates, pulling my bag that was slipping off , back onto my shoulder.

I was late. He hated when I was late.

I walked into the lawn. The grass had grown so tall that it seemed as if the grass was reaching out to me.

My heart was probably beating faster than the speed of light.

Please don't let him be here. Please, please, please don't let him be here, was my repetitive thought.

He was definitely going to punish me if he found out that I was late.

I timidly opened the old, wooden door of my house. It made creaking sounds as it opened to reveal the inside of my small house.

My family and I lived in a poor  neighborhood. We couldn't afford much and we weren't really comfortable with our life either.

My house only had two bed rooms; mine and my parents'. Along with the bed rooms, there was a kitchen, a living room, one bathroom and the basement.

I hated the basement. That was where I would be sleeping if he found out that I was late.

I tiptoed inside my house, trying to make it to my room without making a sound.

I tiptoed a few steps and peeped into the kitchen and saw that no one was there.

I let out a quick sigh of relief and continued further down the hall towards my room.

Then his voice made me freeze in my tracks.

"Dorian" his voiced boomed throughout the house as he said my name with a bitter tone. "What time is it?" He asked me.

I turned around slowly, afraid to face him. "It 4:30" I said , my voice barely above a whisper as I held my head down.

"Look at me Dorian and speak louder!" He yelled at me , causing me to flinch.

I looked at him and repeated the time once more, this time in a more audibly tone.

"And what time did I tell you to get home Dorian?" He asked slowly.

Uh oh.

When he talked slowly it meant that he was really angry and was trying his best to contain his anger, which only works for about 10 seconds.

"At 4" I replied, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I knew what I was going to get. I knew what he was going to do to me so I tried explaining myself.

"It was Katie's fault daddy! She told me that I should stay back and play tag with her after school. I told her that I had to go home but she still told me to play with her." By this time I was crying. " I'm sorry daddy. I promise I won't do it aga-" I was cut off my a stinging pain in my left cheek.

He slapped me.

"Enough Dorian!" He yelled.

Big fat tears rolled down my cheeks.

He took off his belt in one fluid motion and before I could react, he started beating me with it.

He hit me on my arms, my legs, my back and my stomach.

I tried to get up and run but instead, I knocked over a vase and broke it.

"You little bitch!" He shouted at me.

"Daddy I'm sorry!" I cried, but he didn't want to hear it.

He took up one of the broken glasses on the ground and sliced my arm with it.

I screamed out in pain as I saw the blood trickling down my arm.

It was then that my mother came running towards us, crying out to my father to stop.

He lifted his hand again to cut me with the shard of glass but my mother held on to his hand, preventing him from lowering it.

He looked at her , his eyes burning with rage.

"Get off of me you worthless whore!" He shouted to my mother and pushed her on to the floor.

"Mom!" I cried out.

My father's eyes snapped back to me. His eyes were filled with so much hatred and anger that my 6 year old mind refused to believed that it was because of me.

He grabbed my arm roughly and lifted me up and carried me down the stairs of our house.

I knew where we were going.

The basement.

I looked up at my father with pleading eyes.

"Daddy please don't"I cried, hoping that he would take pity on me.

"Shut up!" He shouted.

I could hear my mother behind us screaming at him to let me go.

He opened the door and threw me inside. He locked the door with a key and I heard his foot steps fade away.

I was left on the cold floor of the basement in the dark with a bleeding arm and a tear stained face.

I heard rats squeeking and saw a few running behind a box.

I guess the rats would be my company for the night.

And so my trembling body layed on the ground as I cried myself to sleep that night.