*
STORY WARNING
abuse
That day when I got home, I was immediately hit. My dad slapped me hard across the cheek, so hard it was excruciating. I glare up at him through teary eyes, both in anger and discomfort.
My dad maniacally laughed. "Oh, stop it."
I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, then race up into my room. I lock the door, running into my bathroom and looking into the mirror to make sure my wounds didn't look as bad as they actually felt. Well, isn't life full of disappointments. My face is freaking bruised. I let my tears slide down my face. I couldn't do this anymore.
I decided that I wanted to stay in the bathroom forever right before my dad started to bang his fists on the door.
"GET IN THE LIVING ROOM, NOW!"
My face turned pale, yet I obeyed. I open the door, trailing down the stairs right into the living room. That moment, I was slapped again repeatedly until I fell cold onto the floor.
Before he could do anything else, I screamed as loud as I could, giving an attempt to escape. He grabbed me by my shirt, bringing a knife to my neck. I was atleast two inches away from him, but that knife, I knew, was closer.
"Scream again, I dare you." He moved the sharp object closer until my mouth was tremulously shut. I felt the slightest pain of the knife brushing against my neck, which told me I should not move a muscle. My father smiled with pride and took a step back.
I thought we were done for a second before he pulled me by my shirt again to him, this time dropping the knife. My shirt ripped a little, but that's the one thing I cared the least about right now. He handed me something, which to me looked like drugs, though I knew it wasn't exactly the illegal kind. Was it chloroform in the form of...--
I didn't have much more time to think before he slammed that thing against my nose, allowing my body to instantly feel dizzy and nauseous. My body couldn't give in. I threw up twice on the couch, where the echoes of my dad laughing rummaged through my mind.
I felt like death. Trickles of blood oozed from my mouth after I threw up. My dad took out a frying pan, to which I was unaware of, and knocked me out cold with it. My whole world turned black.
*
I woke up in a closet. A dark closet, little space and little air. I shift around, feeling my legs and arms tied up. I'm glad I wasn't claustrophobic or anything, but this wasn't my idea of fun either. Better than being with my 'dad.' I also took notice that I was tied up in a chair. Bloody great.
I opened my mouth to scream, but everything just echoed. I waited a few seconds before I felt waves of tears come through my eyes.
I'm so helpless! I'm going to die. Dear Lord, save me! Those things kept coming into my head, until I saw a bright light come from the door.
"Hello?" Someone unfamiliar called.
"Here! Save me..." my weak voice rang out. When the person rushed over, I saw that it was a police officer. His weapons and keys were on his belt, but his badge and cap gave everything away.
"Who did this to you?" He asked, untying me and taking me outside. I look around, answering heartbeats later. "My dad."
"Who is your dad, sweetie? What's your name?" He took out a pad and a pencil when I was free.
