Letters To My Mate

Chapter Ten

... Hello :') So, it has been a while. But good news! This story is now off hold as I no longer have school until September! I'm so happy that I can finally continue this story without any distractions (Well, not as many distractions!) Thank you for reading, enjoy;') xx

TEN

I closed the front door to my house behind me, leaning against it while hugging an envelope to my chest. It has been two weeks since I realised that I love Ethan and I couldn't be happier. I-

"Look who's finally home!" I heard a voice exclaim, causing my eyes to widen and my hands to automatically hide the envelope in my back pocket as quickly as I possibly could. I couldn't let my father know about Ethan – who knows what he'll do.

"I-I'm sorry father, I did not know that you would be home today." I replied in a whisper.

"Speak up when you are talking to me! I demand respect!"

'You have done nothing to deserve my respect," I thought.

"I-I-" I started.

"Me, me, me. That's all you ever talk about right? You selfish cow."

I whimpered and backed into the door, preparing for what was to come. It had been a few weeks but I still remember the physical pain as if I went through it every day.

My last thought as his fist approached my face was 'please don't find Ethan's letter,' – before I was knocked unconscious.

* * * * *

Groaning, I stretched and sat up on my 'bed.' However, the satisfying feeling of hours of sleep did not last long as sharp, shooting pains travelled up my spine – looking down, I realised that I had many bruises that covered my pale skin. I had never seen so many bruises. I had no recollection of what had happened when my father came home; I was knocked unconscious almost immediately. I scrunched my eyes tightly and tensed as I reached over to grab the alarm clock I had bought earlier this month before my eyes widened. It was 2:43pm on Thursday – my father had come home on Tuesday. How had I been out for two days? Were my fathers' beatings getting that bad?

I searched around my room in a panic, sliding my hand into the back pocket of my baggy jeans – where was Ethan's letter? What if he found it? I wouldn't ever be able to speak to him again. What could I do? Questions were rushing through my head, resulting in the start of a headache. My eyesight was still slightly blurry as I had still not healed from Tuesday so I could not search around my room while sat down on my mattress. I stood up, my legs shaking as I did so due to the sudden weight that was forced upon them. I was so weak. Hastily, I rushed around the room in yet another panic in order to find the letter I had written; I threw clothes all over the floor and turned my room upside-down yet I still couldn't find it. With my head in my hands, I kicked a jumper across the room and groaned in frustration. If my father had found that letter, he would take it away and never let me speak to Ethan again, and I can't forget that the abuse would probably reach a higher level of intensity.

There was no point in going to school now as my last class is in session right now – I should probably clean the mess that I had made, anyway. As I folded clothes that were strewn around the room, I saw a crumpled up envelope under my mattress. I knew that it must have only fallen out of my pocket whenever I was brought upstairs to my room. I bent down, wincing in pain as I did, and grabbed the letter in my hands – turning it over to check if it was still intact and my father hadn't read it. Thank God. I don't know what I would do if he had read it. I don't know what he would do.

I tip-toed down the hall to the top of the staircase and listened out for my father, when I didn't hear any movement I rushed down the stairs to the first aid kit that I hid in one of the kitchen cupboards. Getting out a disinfectant, I poured it to a cotton pad and gently applied it onto any cuts that were left on my pale skin. Then, I applied bandages to any areas that were more severe and would otherwise need stitches. I couldn't go to the hospital; they would ask too many questions. Questions that I could not give the answer to without my father being found out.