It Started With A Cigarette|✓|

Chapter-1: PAIN

~Five years later~

Dina's P.O.V

I gritted my teeth to block out the pain. I was used to this.

As I put another step forward, I felt pain shoot up my right leg. I fell down holding my leg.

No. Signs. Of. Weakness.

I got up, still clutching my leg.

I spat at the pavement and continued walking.

As I walked into the school, the bell rang. I decided not to go to class. It was only arts after all.

I went to sit under the tree. My tree.
I threw my bag under the bench and lay down.

My eyes scanned the school but my brain and body were too exhausted from today's beatings.

I replayed today's morning over and over inside my head again.

Just the thought of going back home frustrated me.

In spite of the pain I was in, I got up and kicked the dustbin near me, causing a flaring pain to shoot up my leg.

I fell on my back. I had trained myself to not cry. The training paid off. Not a single tear fell.

I quickly reached for my backpack and pulled out a cigarette. I lit it using my lighter and took in a deep drag.
Peace overcame my mind. For a moment, I forgot the tremendous pain I was in and relaxed.

I blew out the smoke and placed the cigarette on my lips again when I heard a voice from behind.

"You shouldn't smoke you know.", a deep voice said.

"And you should be minding your own business, you know.", I snapped, not even turning to look who it was.

I took another drag, allowing intoxication to engulf me.

I enjoyed the temporary pleasure.

Holding the cigarette between my fingers, I lowered my hand. Even lifting my hand to my lips hurt.

I still didn't turn. I suddenly felt the cigarette being yanked from between my fingers.

This time I turned to face a guy, probably my age. He had wavy brown hair and piercing chocolate brown orbs. He was well built and taller than me. I did not get intimidated by any of this.

Who the hell is this guy?

"Give me my goddamn cigarette back.", I growled, my voice raspy.

"You know you should really go to some anger therapy sessions. And stop smoking. And stop bunking classes. An-", the guy started.

"And you should shut your mouth. Stop irritating me. Give me my cigarette back and get lost.", I snapped.

He laughed and threw the cigarette on the ground. He crushed it with his shoe.

"You really need to calm down.", he said.

I would've slapped him if my arm didn't hurt so bad.

I gave him a death glare and picked up my bag before heading to the ladies toilet.

Every step hurt. I somehow managed to reach the toilet and shut the door behind me.

I took off my shirt and inspected myself in the mirror.

The bruises were pretty bad this time.
My stomach was almost purple from the blow I had gotten.

There were red specks on my collarbone and my thighs. There was nothing visible on my face thankfully.

There were bluish bruises on my leg.
I scrunched my nose and put my shirt back on. My ribs hurt as I slid the shirt over my head.

I washed my face and wiped it with my shirt.

I walked out of the bathroom, straight back to my tree.

Thankfully, there wasn't that annoying guy from before.

I lay down on the bench.

No one dared to even sit on my bench.
I liked it that way. I closed my eyes and let sleep engulf me.
---×---

I was rudely awakened by the ringing of the school bell. I got up, forgetting the pain for a moment, and fell back on my bench clutching my sides.

I looked around. People were scurrying out of the building. I looked at the clock. It was a quarter past three. I picked up my bag and slowly got up. I walked and my limp seemed to be getting worse.

I made my way across the school pavement and fell several times, earning few sneers from onlookers.

People loved to see me in pain.

I glared at anyone who sneered at me and enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing them visibly gulp.

I somehow reached my house with a lot of (painful) effort.

I opened the door and thanked God when I realized dad was not home.
He was probably out drinking.

I climbed the stairs with a lot of difficulty. The old, wooden stairs creaked under me and so did the bones in my body.

I went inside my room and lay down on my bed, not bothering to change my clothes.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard the front door of my house open. I groaned and got up. I silently moved towards the door, praying dad wouldn't hear me.

I locked it quickly and pushed my study table against it, waiting for the pounding on my door to start.

I quickly went into the bathroom and locked the door, in case he somehow managed to come into my room.

I sat inside the dry bathtub, holding my knees against my chest. I pulled the shower curtain and waited.

I heard my heart thudding inside my chest. I bent my head.

The pounding was faint at first then eventually, it got louder.

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth.
I could hear my door getting pounded by my drunk father.

"Get your damn self out!", I faintly heard my dad shouting.

I sat there, not moving.

The pounding eventually died down.
I got up and opened my bathroom door. I stepped into my room.

I still didn't move the desk, in case he decided to come back at night.

I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling until night took over day and sleep slowly engulfed me.
---×---
As they say, sleep transports you into a different world. All I could wish for is to stay in that world forever. Sadly, when have my wishes ever been fulfilled?

I woke up to the ringing of my annoying alarm clock.

"Bloody contraption.", I murmured to myself before hitting the snooze button.

I tried to get up but my whole body ached. My arms and legs were sore.
I reluctantly got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up.

I wore a black top and faded jeans. I did not give a damn about any kind of makeup.

I pushed the desk aside, only to get rewarded with a painful sting in my arm.

I opened the door and made my way downstairs. Dad was nowhere to be seen, which meant the coast was clear.

I quickly went to the kitchen to grab an apple.

I took a bite out of it and decided to finish it on the rest of the way.

As I reached the doorway, I saw him standing there. The same drunk fury evident on his face. He stood there with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Why didn't you open the door yesterday?", he asked calmly but menace oozed out from every word.

I gulped and made my mind and body mentally ready for today's round of blows.
---×---