Under The Bad Boys Protection

(1) He is the source of my unhappiness.

There WILL be curse words in this book and maybe other explicit chapters so PLEASE be responsible when reading.

My life isn't easy. I wish that I could be that girl whose only worry is that they haven't completed a homework assignment on time. Or that they haven't caught up with the new episode of whatever TV show people watch these days.
But, me? My life used to be full of joy and laughter. My home used to be warm and loving. And my father. Well he used to be a father.
Now? I'm tired. I'm tired of the abuse. The loneliness. Of life.

At school I'm surrounded by thousands of students, with my best friend Mollie always stood by my side. Yet I still feel isolated. Each person, like a fish in the sea, idly swimming by, drifting along the waves of life. While I'm stuck in an everlasting flood. Unable to swim.

             **********************

Rosalie's POV

"If I asked you to clean this house, I expect it to be spotless!" My father, Tony shouts.

He told me to clean the house, from top to bottom over the last weekend of the holidays given that he was on a business trip. Both a blessing and a curse. A weekend without his abuse, without him, but if even he sees so much as one speck of dust, I can expect the worst. And this is exactly what happened this morning.

Now, at 6am on the first day back to school, he is hovering over my crouched body, claiming it wasn't clean enough. He is the source of my unhappiness. My depression. Whatever you want to call it. Nearly everyday he beats me black and blue for any reason he sees fit.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again" I squeak out, not wanting any new bruises to add to my collection.

Over the years, I've learnt what to say and what not to say. How to lie to people about the mysterious cuts and bruises. How to cover up bruises that are on show from when he's been drinking and sloppily hit me.

"No. It won't happen again. Because I'm going to teach you a lesson" he smirks, grabbing my arm, pulling me up in front of him.

My 5"8 figure is littered with bruises from Tony. Mainly focused on my stomach and back, where people can't see. There are some miscellaneous ones lying around my arms and legs, but they're nothing compared to the display I have on my stomach.

We stand face to face as he raises his right hand, making my eyes squeeze in fear. The hard blow of Tony's punch to the side of my head makes me fall to the ground, with a loud thud.

He repeatedly kicked my upper body, focusing on my ribs, ignoring my pleadings for him to stop. I don't cry. He feeds off of my tears, so I just beg for mercy instead.

He finishes his round of beatings with stamping on my right hand, pushing his foot down with immense force, to near the point of a bone breaking. Good job I'm left handed I guess.

He bends down to reach my body, lying limp on the floor.

"When I tell you to clean the house." He whispers in my ear.
"I expect it to be fucking clean"  he finishes as he stands back up, smirks and walks into the kitchen.

I take a few minutes to collect myself, trying not to shed tears. I clutch my stomach and hunch over, careful not to straighten my back fully as even that has become painful over the years.
Slowly, I make my way to my bedroom and check the time.
6:30am.
I carefully undress myself and observe my body in the mirror. My brown hair has gone from the silky, smooth, beautiful hair that I once had, to a lifeless mess. My eyes, a sad, lonely brown to match. Years of neglect has reduced my body to a bruised mess. Thin and pale, I can't handle much more of this. I've never been gorgeous but, I've had a couple of boyfriends but have had to cut them off before it gets too serious and they see my body.