Zosia Biermann, an abused teenager, meets Kendric Cohen, who's hiding from his demons and Zosia must learn to trust freely before she misses her door of escape.
Walked through some rivers, gone through some pain, seen my world crumble and I've carried the shame - "Never Alone" Tori Kelly
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Zo-xia. Zo-si-a. Zo-sire. All different ways to say one name, my name, all horribly horrible. Zo, I like Zo. Easily mistaken for Zoey, makes it a lot easier to change my name. I mean why couldn't I be named something like Michelle or Amy or even Zoey, that's about as close to my actual name I can -
"Zosia Onajite Biermann!" her mother's loud voice echoed through the house, disrupting her train of thought.
"Maaaa," Zosia's eyes rolled as she called back, what in the world does she want now. She rolled out of her bed, pushing her tangled sheets out of her way and stood up stretching and yawning.
Zo's Mum barged in, eyes wide open and holding her metal ruler. "Are you ready for school? You're not abi? You want to start again this new session; you have no fear, shey?" her Nigerian accent lacing her voice as she shouted.
She stepped back, the back of her knee hitting the edge of her bedframe. "I-I-I don't have school today Mum," she tried to explain. As Zo's Mum raised the hand with the metal ruler, she knew what was to come. Blimey! Why did I leave that downstairs? That was her last thought before the hits began. Zosia raised her hands up to block the hits from the rest of her body.
"You better leave my house in 5 minutes!" She slammed her door shut. Quickly, she scampered across the floor looking around for the key that most have been flung out of the door when her Mum barged in.
Clink! Yes! She just touched it... Oh shoot! She pushed it farther in. She stretched her battered arm a bit and got the key.
"Ughh," Zosia groaned as she dragged her hand out. Standing up weakly, she slumped against the door, locking it. Zosia limped back to her bed and shut her eyes when her head hit the pillow. She tried to sleep but she started reminiscing. Whip! She winced as she remembered the first non-disciplinary lash she got, about a year ago.
It was a couple of months after her dad lost his job. Her guess is her Mum got tired of being the breadwinner and having to work extra hard for the family. But to be honest, only God knows. Her Dad went into a relapse, drinking and slobbering, drooling and mumbling, a chump without a job. He turned into nothing and it hurt her. He changed; maybe just maybe the absence of his hope was the loss of his reason for life.
Her only escape has been Auden, peculiarly pronounced O-den, she loved his name. Loved it! Auden Baker, the love of her life, her solace. She couldn't wait to see him on Monday.
Zo turned her body and gasped, there was so much blood on the bed. Looking to her upper left arm, she saw a straight gash that must have been cut by the edge of the ruler. Funnily, it didn't hurt until she saw it. Now it hurt badly. She reached under her bed, with her better hand, to get her box for wounds. Zo wouldn't call it a first aid box because Lord knows it's not. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. It was just a collection of knick-knacks from around her house that could be used to clean up her wounds.
Anyways, Zo took her dad's bottle of vodka and sat up. She put a stray cloth in her mouth to muffle any screams. Zosia breathed in shakily as she raised the bottle; just because I predicted this shit doesn't make it any easier to do it. She poured the clear liquid onto the wound and shouted into her gag. Zosia then cleaned it and tied it up with her wound strip. It's a strip of one of Mum's old dresses that she used to tie up her wounds whenever her Mum got in that mood.
Failing to fall asleep, she went to bathe. Under the shower, Zo heard the front door shut and an engine sputtering. Mum's going out; just to be sure, she stood on her toes to peer out the window and saw her old blue Corolla driving down the street. Zosia decided to clean up fast so that she could eat before her Mum came back, whenever that was.
On her way to the kitchen, she saw her dad in the living room across the open space.
"Ona," her father croaked,using a shortened form of her middle name. The sucker was draped on the one-seater cushion with a bottle of God knows what in his hands. She wanted him to ask about her wounds, she knew it was futile but a time had got to be THE charm. Right?
"Daddy, I got hurt today," Her throat clogged up with tears, her eyes watering and her right hand on her wounded arm.
"Hmm,"
"Daddy?" she looked up to see the man snoring. A tear fell, Zosia sucked in her breath to stop the rest, if she didn't; there'd be a waterfall.
She wiped her eyeswith her fuzzy sweater and sighed. Dad will get cold in a bit, this one that he was wearing only his boxers and a singlet. Wiping her eyes again, she got the wrapper that always rested on the couch and covered him. Then she took the bottle out of his hand and set it on the coffee table.
Hi beautiful people! Thank you for starting this book with me today. I genuinely love and cherish you. I hope you enjoy it cause like... Any criticism is welcome and embraced don't worry. Also, if you have any idea for face claims, slide in my private messages. Remember our little milestone for now: 2K views for a face reveal. To be honest, I'm really shy so I don't want to do it but I want my book to be read and shared soooooo.
