His Lies

One..x

This is my first story I have ever posted and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I will edit it slowly , COMMENT VOTE AND BECOME A FAN if you liked it of course (: thanks to all that ever read this! And I appreciate it even if you didn't like this. (: First chapters suck haha xx

I was never a fan of love. And I didn't intend to be. Watching all the girls at my school become caught up in love was funny. But then again, it was terrifying. 

His name was Ethan. He was the most popular guy in school. He was the fallback in football. He was the most athletic guy ever. And worst of all, he was a heartbreaker. A player. A girl swinger. 

And when he saved me from drowning, I wished I really did drown. Who knew a guy could lie like he did? And why me? What was so interesting about me? Spencer Sybil a geek from Alabama? Right now, I could kill him. But what difference would it make seeing him suffer? 

Wow. Why did I fall? Why did I ever think love could be different for me? Its never the same. Its never different. Its love. Whoever said love could overcome obstacles lied. Love made the obstacles and there was no changing that. 

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It was a dark Sunday morning. Mom had popped into my bedroom telling me that she was just off to work. I ignored her and rolled over onto my side, pulling the blanket across my face, groaning tiredly although I was wide awake and hurt inside.

So far I knew, Mom and I didn't get along. She didn't like me and I didn't like her. That's how it was meant to be. Any bonding and we were at each other 24/7, screaming and shouting. I disliked her - no! I despised her - wait...no. I hated her! 

She ruined my life in every way she could. She said she was just doing what was best for me and that she loved me to bits. But it didn't explain why she did everything she had. For one, she stole me away from my father's reach and I hated her for that. She was an alcoholic and I despised her for that. She was stupid, I disliked her for that, and she tried to act more like my friend than my mother. She was, to be completely honest, a bad, bad, bad mother and I hated it! I hated living with her and I hated staying under her watch. She made me feel like a little kid when it came to friends and guys. 

Thinking about her made me feel gutless and sick. Why was I born? Why had she taken me away from dad? No one could be as bad as her. I had never told anyone this...but sometimes, if she was really wasted, she would abuse me. She would tie me to the washing line pole and yell in my face that she wished I wasn't born and that I was a horrid daughter. 

Sometimes she would hurt me, sometimes she would spit on me. But what was the worst thing was that she'd let her mates throw blocks of wood or sticks at me as I cried silently. Why I didn't shout for help was simple - Mom would just abuse me more and her friends would throw harder. But she specifically said not to hit me in the head or the face because she didn't want me to end up retarded. 

Right now, I wanted to run away. But if I ran, Mom would find me. 

God I felt ill just calling her Mom. 

In the morning, Mom wouldn't know what she did. She would ask me how I got all those cuts and bruises all over my body and ask if I was getting bullied. I would usually lie to her and to myself and say I just got hit with the hockey puck a lot. But the thing was - I didn't play hockey. 

And of course, she bought it. Lying saved me all the more pain the next time she got mad at me and was completely and utterly drunk. 

Yawning, I slowly sat up and listened for her car leaving. Feeling safer, I got up and had a nice hot shower. The water woke me up and the steam made me forget. Washing, I felt cleansed of anything bad. I would make a fresh start this morning even if it was darker than usual.