Francine Lockhart was viewed by many as the perfect role model. Smart, beautiful, perfect body, and rich. On top of that, the public new her as a princess in their family, treated with love and care.
But nobody knew the girl behind the smiles in the...
I expected it as soon as the front doors closed behind us. However, I did not expect for him to punch me in the gut, knocking the air out of me which left me writhing in pain on the floor. It was followed immediately with a strong kick on my side, probably damaging my rib cage.
"John," her stern voice echoed around the empty living room. I was surprised that she stopped him from beating the life out of me like usual, but as soon as hope bloomed in my chest, it was crushed immediately by her next words. "Not here. The media could still see us through the window. What if they didn't leave? Our image will be ruined." Despite having blurry vision due to the tears that welled in my eyes, I know that her eyes held the same disgust that he has whenever he looks at me.
"You're not yet off the hook for this one, young lady." He angrily spat before storming off to their bedroom.
"Clean yourself up, will you?" She said before following her husband to their room. As soon as I heard a faint slamming of a door, I knew that they would leave me alone for a while. Well, at least for an hour or less. I pulled myself up and leaned my body on the cold wall to check on my probably broken rib. Despite the money they have, they refuse to hire some help. Sure, they had a driver, cook, and a group of helpers but they only come to the mansion on set times so that their dirty little secret will not come out and ruin their image.
Events like this happen more often than the regular days of helpers in the mansion but none of it ever comes out to the light. Well, except maybe not never, especially with what I had failed to cover up earlier this evening. Usually, when they hurt me, my personal makeup artist – who was paid to keep her silence – would make sure that all my marks are covered before I even step out of the mansion. Earlier was not an exception. However, when we were already at the venue of a social event, I excused myself to the bathroom, exhausted from keeping up the façade day to night for seven times a week. Someone dropped her razor on the counter and I made a nasty cut on my wrist, just to distract myself from reality. It took a while, but I managed to stop it from bleeding and not get it on my pure white dress. Sadly, it was a white maxi dress and it completely showed my fresh cut.
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Long story short, people noticed, they noticed, and I knew I was doomed. They, meaning my biological parents.
Now, I am on the floor, leaning on a cold wall, looking down on my broken rib. Definitely broken. Since they refuse to hire a doctor to get me treated every time this happens, I learned how to patch myself up on my own.
I pushed myself off the floor, using the wall as a support, then took my heels off before making my way to my room. However, as soon as I entered, I knew I was going to end up with more injuries even worse than a broken rib. There on my black couch sat my mom and my dad with deadly looks on their faces. They were waiting for me in my room.
"What were you thinking, Francine?!" My dad roared as he pushed himself off the couch and took long strides to where I stood. "Are you trying to ruin us?!" He grabbed my arm tight and slammed my bedroom door close. I kept my mouth shut as he dragged me nearer to my mom. His nails dug into my skin as he threw me roughly on the ground. I was glad I took my heels off. I would have broken my ankles at the force he used. Tears stung my eyes despite feeling the same pain physically and emotionally for years.
My mom stood from the couch and crouched down to my level before roughly grabbing my face and forcing me to look. "You little b*tch, we gave you everything you wanted, and this is how you repay us?! By ruining all our hard work?!" She spat at me, rage swimming in her eyes. She used her other hand and landed a painful slap on my cheek. I felt a cut and realized that she turned her ring before slapping me to make the cut.
"Mom, I didn't mean to do it." I cried as I held my bruised and cut cheek. Tears flowed down my cheek and some even went to the cut, making it sting.
"You didn't mean to do it?!" She yelled angrily and stood. "LIES!" With her 10 inched stilettos on, she stepped on my arm that was holding me up. I cried in pain as the heel dug into my skin. "People are going to suspect us now because of you!"
"We would not be able to pay for your sh*t if we didn't have this fame and money that we worked so hard for!" Dad bellowed in anger before stepping on my ankle. I heard a sickening crack, making me scream. "You ungrateful little sh*t!"
They continued shouting and beating me up until they grew tired and left my room, leaving me half dead and bleeding on my marble floor. My throat was sore, heck, my entire body was, but despite the pain, I knew that I needed to get out of the house or I might start thinking of something stupid and probably go on with it. So, with an aching body, I limped to my closet and pulled out a black hoodie and a white shirt, both having the same print on them–XPLR, then a pair of grey sweatpants. I took off my bloody maxi dress, threw it on the garbage bin and took a quick shower, cleaning off the blood and makeup from my body to reveal the nasty truth. I dried myself up, bandaged all the broken bones – my right ankle, both wrists, my left arm, and my chest (rib cage) – and slipped on my clothes. I also wore trainers, knowing that I would need to climb to get to my destination. After changing, I grabbed a bag and stuffed some water bottles, because I don't know how long I was going to stay there, and some snacks from my hidden pile in my closet. I also stuffed two flashlights, extra batteries, my iPod and headphones in my bag before sneaking out of the mansion.
Despite the aching body and a horrible limp, I managed to walk out of the house, grab my car, and drive to my safe haven.
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