Save Me. (Matthew Espinosa)

Prologue

A/N THIS STORY IS CURRENTLY UNDERGOING SOME MAJOR EDITING. THE CHAPTER WIH ACTUAL TITLES ARE THE ONES THAT ARE COMPLETELY DONE EDITING AND THE ONES WITHOUT HAVEN'T BEEN EDITED AT ALL. IF YOU GET FURTHER INTO THE STORY AND IT STARTS TO SOUND TERRIBLE I APOLOGIZE.

Lacey's POV

As the last bell rings, my pale eyes grow wider. I don't want to go home, but I can't stay here either. Thoughts and inquiries flow through my troubled mind. Should I run away? Wouldn't he find me? Should I tell somebody? Would they even believe me? Would they help me? Would I be safe? Would he find out? Wouldn't he hurt me even more?

"Ms. Lloyd, are you alright?" I am brought out of my trance by the familiar, caring voice of Mrs. Sanders. It catches my attention that I haven't even moved since the bell rang. I stumble to form words, probably looking like a crazed girl who had just seen a ghost.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just leaving," I explain while grabbing my things. I run out of her classroom and down the hall to my locker. I haven't seen Hannah at all today and I'm hoping not to. Hannah is probably the second sickest person I've ever laid my eyes on, next to my dad. The last thing I want is to get beat up again by her and her little clique. I mean, my dad is already going to be mad at me when I get home. I'm not completely positive why he's abusive but I'm fairly certain it has something to do with my mom. She passed shortly after I was born and I have a feeling he just continues to blame her death on me. That, or he abuses me without reasoning anymore. It seems like so long ago that he actually started hitting me, changing the way that I will look at him forever. We used to have such a good father-daughter relationship, but I guess people change.

I throw my unwanted school books into my orange locker and slam the door shut, running for the school exit. Today is the first day I haven't seen Hannah since the beginning of my freshman year. Maybe today isn't as bad as I have made it out to be. However, I don't know what will happen to me as soon as I get home. I have been abused by my only guardian for what seems like an eternity. I'm hit at least once by my father, David, every day. Some days are worse than others. If I'm really lucky he doesn't even come home, for he's too busy, out bar hopping with his buddies.

The abuse started when I was around six years old. He came home one night really drunk and upset. He threw a half empty beer bottle at me and began to scream at me about my mother's death, and how it had all been my fault. Everything was my fault. Sure, I may have been the cause of her death, but it's not something I intentionally did it. I really wish I could've known my mom, she couldn't have been as much of a terrible person as my dad is. Tears had streamed down my face as he hit me again and again until everything eventually went black. I don't remember what exactly had happened after I passed out, but I'm assuming he hadn't stopped. Ever since, he has abused me in every possible way for nearly every day. It's like by hurting me, it eases his pain; the pain of losing my mom, which he still hasn't let go of, even after all of these years.

In the midst of all of this, I am alone. I don't even have a single friend. I know it may sound like a ridiculous accusation, but I'm simply not a likable person. There's just some sort of aurora about me that keeps people at a distance. Maybe it's my old, ragged clothes, or my tangled hair, or my awkward personality, or all of the scars adorning my body. For reasons like this, I keep to myself and just speak when spoken to. At this point in my life, I could honestly care less about how people view me. I hardly ever care about my appearance or my social life.

I finally reach my driveway, regretting it instantaneously for my dad is already waiting for me. His facial expression is hard, and he obviously isn't in a happy mood. His hair is a mess and a cigarette is dangling from his mouth. He wears one of his stained, white under shirts, and jeans. His posture is slouched as he grasps a beer bottle in his left hand. He looks straight into my green eyes with his droopy, grey ones. I freeze at the sight of him. He normally isn't home this early. His drunken state is obvious as he stumbles down the steps, trying to form words to yell at me.

"Lacey! Get over here!!" he screams at me, waiting for me to approach him. I try to contain my tears and find myself flinching even with the distance between us. I slowly begin to walk, for if I don't make my way towards the house, he'll just drag me in there anyway; without caring even the slightest bit.

"Y-yes dad.." I stutter, making my way towards him. I breathe in and out slowly, trying not to think about the intolerable pain that I will be enduring. I tremble as I brush my hair out of my face, trying not to make eye contact with the terrifying man upon me. Once in front of him, he sharply and firmly grips my wrist, yanking me inside, and slamming the already half broken door shut; blocking us out from the rest of the world.