The Girl Who Cried Wolf

Chapter 1

It is been four days since my last beating! Call it luck, but it's probably just because the Jacobs- my adoptive family have been out of town for the last two days. I have no clue where they are and I don't care. As long as I stay far, far away from them. However I do care when they are going to return because I want to avoid them as much as possible. I hope it's not until after my birth- my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the garage door. "Shit!" I curse.

"Freak, we're home!" My older brother Trent says in a sing-song voice stretching out 'home'.

"Get down here now, you bitch!" My oh so lovely father Jason bellows.

I trudge down the stairs with a groan and walk into the kitchen where the monsters are and mutter under my breath, "Good to see you guys too."

In reply I get a slap to the face from father dear and a shove into the corner of the counter. Shit! That did not tickle! "You will treat us with respect and talk only when spoken to! Do you understand?!" My father roars, alcohol mixed with his already malodorous breath.

"Yes sir", I squeal. My back still hurts like hell but I refuse to cave and show weakness. I refuse to cower down in fear even though I am scared shitless.

"Good, now are your chores complete?" Mindy- my witch of a mother sneers.

"Um, yes mother. I did all of my chores and cooked dinner in case you were hungry after your trip. I don't know when you would be home so I put it in the fridge. I can heat it up if you like?" I reply my voice slightly shaky but making eye contact none the less.

"Yes, and maybe if you behave you will get a crumb." She replies like a crumb is an all you can eat buffet- which for a girl who hasn't eaten in days, it is.

I nod not trusting myself to speak. "Go!" Trent yells like it's obviously. I nod again and scurry off to make the table. Once the glasses are full I head to the fridge and pull out the pasta I made the night before. After reheating it and distributing it on three plates I add a side of salad as well as potatoes. Once everything is set I ring the bell and in a matter of seconds everyone is sitting at the table scarfing down the dinner I prepared. Since I am not allowed at the table I stand in the corner ready to act on any command given.

After ten smooth minutes of people stuffing their mouths and me wondering if unicorns exist my father abruptly stop at chewing and clears his throat. He then slowly sets down his fork and wipes his mouth. Through clenched teeth he says to me, "Fuck-up, what is this?" My eyes go wide and my palms get sweaty as I watch him pull a long piece of brown hair out of his spaghetti.

I stutter, "Fa-father, I-I-I do-don't kno-know. Well I-I do kn-know, I-I'm so-sorry, let me exp-ecplai- I was cut off by the plate my father threw at me smashing into pieces on my head.

Red liquid started to slither down my face and drop onto the cream carpet. "You bitch!", my mother shrieked, "Look what you've done! You got blood on the carpet!" She then puched me down an repeatedly kicked me in the stomach over and over.

My tears mixed with my blood and my cries became muffled with the profanities my family screeched at me as the continued the beating. My loud sobs became silent and after many blows the left but not before the lovely Trent spit on me. This was one of the worst beatings I have ever had and thisoc time it was too much. The tears came and my loud so s became silent. After a good half hour of crying I gained enough strength to crawl up the stairs to my room.

I figured I would wake up before everyone else and clean my mess but right now I needed a shower. I do actually have a shower but I get in trouble for using it unless it's absolutely necessary. So considering I haven't had one in over a week and I'm covered in blood, I think it's necessary!