Captive by mistake. (Lesbian Story)

Chapter 20 - Back to Ashley...And Sarah

Chapter warning: contains a description of childhood abuse. (Physical, verbal only.) 



My earliest childhood memory is being locked in a closet. Darkness surrounded me, almost consuming my very being. My eyes darted back and forth in the room. There was something there with me, to this day I don't know why I felt like I was constantly being watched. Ready for something to pull me into the abyss.
Needless to say, I hated the dark.

My mother reassured me there was nothing in the dark that could hurt me. At the same time, I could have sworn there was a man with red eyes who liked to stare at me. To this day I can't tell if it was real, or if I had just made it up in my mind.

I could hear my father's footsteps pounding against the wooden floor. The heavy sound vibrating through the closet floors.

I backed myself into a corner, close to where I thought the man with red eyes was. But that man, as scary as I thought he was, was never scarier than my daddy.

"Get out here, girl!" he screamed. The alcohol on his breath wrapped around my throat, suffocating the life out of me.

"No!" I shouted at him, refusing. I tried to huddle as close as I could to the wall. Maybe if I huddled close enough, he couldn't drag me out.

His aura bled black in the air around him. He reached into the closet with his strong fist and wrapped his hand in my shirt. He dragged me out into the blinding light of his room, and a piece of wood came down onto my leg. 

My father worked in construction. Sometimes when he had to demolish something he would take bits and pieces to take home with him. The things he used to abuse me were often handpicked just for that reason. It just so happened this piece of wood had nails sticking out from all sides. All sides, except where my father grabbed. Almost like he had made a handle for it.

"OW!!" I screamed as I bent over to hold my hurt leg. Trying to make sure it wouldn't be hit in the same area again. I could feel the warm liquid rush from my leg and onto my fingers.

But as I was protecting my leg the wood came down again. This time, onto my back. This knocked me forward onto the ground.

"Stop daddy!!" I pleaded with him. Unfortunately for me, I didn't know it at the time, but I'm pretty sure it fueled him every time I pleaded for him to stop.

Then he hit my head, he hit me so hard I saw a white flash in my eyes, then nothing at all. I don't remember anything after that. Except, I remember talking to myself as I started to fade. As my father beat me mercilessly. The last thing I heard, was his sadistic laughter cracking through the air.

Daddy is mean. Why is he mean?

Because he doesn't care.

Daddy's are supposed to love his daughters. Why doesn't daddy love us?

Not all daddies are good daddies.

I woke up hours later with a huge bump on the side of my head. Ribs sore from being kicked after I had knocked out. A sharp pain shot through my legs. It was the first night I really felt the pain, for the first time. I could feel all my senses tingling- and not in a good way.

I want him to stop hurting me...

He will never touch you again. I'll protect us.

As I grew, my father's rage did as well. The more demanding my minimal care was, the more violent he grew.

"YOU'RE THE REASON I HAVE TO WORK ALL THE TIME! YOU LEECH, SUCKING UP ALL MY HARD EARNED MONEY!" He'd yell as his spit pelted my face.
"Not to mention your ungratefulness. You should worship the ground I walk for keeping this roof over your head!" He continued to grumble.