Alpha Roman

One

Abigail's POV

Mornings are the best part of my day, I can wake up and for just a second forget where I am. The once second of peace that I get lasts just long enough for me to rise out of bed. However, once I get a once of where I currently reside, my memory's come back and the pain in my body makes its self known. Slowly, I get out of the small rotting twin bed that I sleep in, being mindful of my injuries. I can't say that I'm not grateful for the bed I was given but as the termites eat away at the wood my weight makes the underboards creaks with just a twitch of my body.  My feet hit the cold floor as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and suppress the shiver that wanted to run through my body. I walked over to the small pile of clothing that was in the corner of my 'room' and got a pair of ill-fitting blood stained jeans with a over sized red jacket and some undergarments. I bring the clothes with me into the house and into the downstairs bathroom.

My parents have their shower in their master bedroom, so they turned off the hot water from the bathroom down here. I shed from the clothes I slept in and had to bite my the inside of my cheek to stop myself from making a sound from the whip gashes I had gotten the day before. Stepping into the shower, cold water beats on my head but I don't feel the sharp cold since I have taken cold showers almost my whole life.

A few of years ago I was moved into a small wooden shack in the backyard, when I was just seven years old. There was only my rotten twin bed in one corner and my pile of bloody clothes in another, the only light source I has came from the single window at the top of the farthest wall from the door and if you really listen you can hear the bugs crawling around.  

I get out of the shower, dry off and put on the clothes I had. I look at myself in the mirror, my dull brown hair that falls down to the middle of my back, my pale skin looked almost transparent because I've never been outside on direct sunlight, and my eyes are the worst, my eyes are a dark purple color and they even glow which just makes then weirder. I look away from the mirror and quickly brush my fingers through my hair to look somewhat neat. I walk out of the bathroom careful not to make a sound. I put the clothes that I slept in, in the pile in my shack and tiptoed back into the sliding back door, going straight to the kitchen to make breakfast.

I started to get abused when I was six years old. I'm not sure of the reason, but I think it's because of my eyes, the weirdness of them. They can't have the perfect daughter they have always wanted, and when my parents found out that they couldn't have any more children, they took their anger out on me by hitting me and calling me names that I never wish to repeat.

As fast as I could I made some bacon, sausage, eggs, and hash browns. As I was cooking, I hummed a song that I once heard someone one sing as they walking around the woods that surround the house. It was a beautiful song, the only song that I knew. I put two plates on the table with utensils then put a good portion of food on each of the plates and some coffee in my father's special mug and some 100% orange juice freshly squeezed in a glass cup for my mother with some ice.

I wash the dishes while still humming the song and just after I finish cleaning the bacon pan, I heard footsteps moving upstairs. They're awake. I quickly wash the dish and washed my hands, so they don't smell like dirty dishwater. I dry my hands with a towel and make sure everything is in there supposed order. Once I'm satisfied that everything was in order, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

As my parents walk I kneel three feet away from the door, bowing with my forehead to the ground. I hear them come down and sit at the dinning table and start eating. They haven't said I could stand up, so I have to be in this position until they do. A few times they've left me there for hours at a time. Twenty minutes have passed, and my parents have had some small talk as if they forgot that I was here, but I can guarantee that they have not. "Girl, get over here," My father said harshly. I got up from my position on the floor and walked to my father just as he commanded me to.

"What is the problem, sir?" I asked him. I am not allowed to call him father since he doesn't acknowledge me as his daughter. He grabbed me by my hair and shoved my face in front of his plate of food, but I didn't see anything wrong with it. "I'm not sure what it is that you are referring to sir," I said waiting for the slap to come. And come it did. The slap rang through the whole house, and I swear I even saw my mother flinch at the sound. The sting in my cheek seems to complement the pain in my scalp from my father pulling on my hair.

"The bacon you trashy whore," My mother said "There is fat on it, and you know how much your father hates fat, imbecile." She must be in a good mood since her curse words are normally much harsher. "I apologize for this I did not see that." Honestly there is no fat on the bacon. My father simply wants an excuse to bring me to the 'room'. I suppress the shiver that wanted to run through my spine with the simple thought of that horrible room. "Well it's there, so we are going to our little place down below," He said with a sick smile and dragged me by my hair to the 'room' as my mother continued to eat her breakfast. Once we get there, my father chained me to the ground by the chains bolted to the cement ground in the middle of the room.

My father got a whip from the wall of many 'toys' as my father likes to call them. Looking at the whip with fear because the whipping I got yesterday still had not healed. "Make a sound and it's an extra 30 lashes," My father whispered in my ear. When the first lash came, I kept my mouth shut without difficulty, but as soon as the number got to thirty, I started to have trouble. On the last lash, which was fifty lashes, I let out a quiet whimper, I prayed to the moon goddess that he didn't hear but I knew it was of no use. From the second I let out the whimper I knew that I would be doing all the chores today in indescribable pain until I passed out from either blood loss or because the pain was to much for my body to take.