The Emotional Laceration of an American Girl.

Ch. 15 The Emotional Laceration of an American Girl.

Kinda short but I wanted a cliffy. Sorry. It'll be longer next time. I might update tomorrow. IDK. It depends on how busy I am but you know I always fit in wattpad where it shouldn't be fitted. LOL!

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I avoided everyone for the next few days. I just couldn't stand it. I even noticed that Kayden was avoiding me. Piper tried to talk to me but I always made an excuse to do something else. I just wasn't in the mood. Every day I went to Alexi's. Why should I put myself together when I keep being pulled apart? The teachers ignored me and I ignored them. What's the point in paying attention? What do I have to live for?

My life? My future? Sure. Those words used to keep me going but now? I don't feel. If I did feel, it would probably be the fear and pain as you realize you're being buried alive. Alive still trying to breath but it's too late. The last second and you give up breathing your last breath. You're too tired and even hell seems better than this pain. Well that's how I feel.

"Lalita Catkin please report to Ms. Jones's office after school," the school announcer said. Now I'm going to be late to work. I sighed and headed towards her office. Ms. Jones is the lady who makes sure your grades are fine and try to make you go to college. College...my dream or more like my oasis in this hell but things change. I walked in and sat down.

Ms. Jones screamed discipline. She had brown hair pulled back in a bun, green eyes hidden behind brown glasses, and a white button down shirt. Her office is always so neat and clean. My dream house looks like this but obviously I know it's only a dream as soon as I walk through the doors. "Ms. Catkin how are things," she asked. I looked surprised. Usually she's all "do this now" and "this is best for you." I sat up straight and said, "Fine. Why do you ask?" She stared at me and I hated it. Her eyes are so soul piercing that it makes even the inner me scream.

"Ms. Catkin how are you feeling," she asked. Well dad beat me last night for not doing the laundry but I guess it could've been worse. At least he didn't put my head under running water and beat my backside. "Very well Ms. Jones. Am I in trouble," I asked. She sat back and crossed her arms. "Why do you ask," she asked. "Well it's just that I have to go to work," I said.

"You work Ms. Catkin," she asked. "Yes. Please call me Lita," I said. "Why Ms. Catkin? Is it bothering you?" She knew that and she knew that I knew that so why did she ask. "Yes," I answered sharply. "Why Ms. Catkin," she asked. "That's my mother and I'm not her." The room grew quiet and she nodded slightly. "Well Lita your grades are dropping. How do you plan to get into college?" I sighed. "I'm not sure Ms. Jones. I'm applying for scholarships but nothing's turned up yet." "Well the paper is always posting new scholarships. In fact the Scholarship Info Packet just came in. Here," she said and she handed me a packet.

"That has all the requirements, deadlines, and specific details inside," she said. "Thank you Ms. Jones. Is that all," I asked. "No Lita. I'm concerned. You aren't looking well and your grades are dropping. Is there a problem at home," she asked. I felt my lips turn up slightly. Isn't that the age-old question for me? "No ma'am. Why do you ask," I asked. "Just asking. I know it's been hard without your mother. How's your father," she asked. "Fine. Busy as always." "I can imagine. Raising a teenage girl like you alone. I'm praying for him and you," she said.

Ms. Jones was a catholic and she subtly hints it everywhere. She has a cross hanging behind her, a rosary over a picture of her family, and a bible on the corner of her desk. It was perfectly balanced. "Thank you," I said. I stood up and nodded to her. "Oh and Lita," she called out as I was in the doorway. I turned towards her and she said, "I'm not giving up on you." She looked down and fiddled with some paper. I left the room quietly and head to work thinking about her words.

What does she know? Did she see one of my bruises? No...then she would've called a social worker. So what did she mean? I'm not giving up on you...she should. I'm no one special and the world wouldn't miss me. My own mother wouldn't miss me. That's when you know your life is worthless. I walked into the diner and put my uniform on. "Rough day," Chris asked. I walked by and grabbed my apron. "Yep," I whispered and he grabbed my hand. I looked back at him frightened and he smiled. "W-what," I asked.

Is he going to do what the other guys did? Pull me into a corner and tell me how beautiful I am? Just thinking about it started to make me cry. "Whoa Lita! I was just going to say you could have a day off. But if you really want to work, go ahead. It's pretty slow today," he said. He let go of my hand and I dried my tears. "Thanks Chris. I don't know what to say." "Just get out of here before I change my mind," he said and walked out. Typical Chris.

I should've known that Chris isn't like that. Then again...how do I know? Every guy could be like that? I bet deep down they all are. Just waiting for a loser of luck girl like met to appear. I can't believe every guy is like that but...why can't I? I walked out of the diner still thinking about it. Maybe it's because deep down, I still loved my father. Why I don't know but love is blinding. At least I can peek.

I really feel bad for the girls who are kept in the dark. The girls who believe with every bone in their body that whoever's beating them, loves them. I would just walk up to every girl, shake them, and scream "He's just fooling you!"

I shook my head smiling. There's no way I could do that. How can I shake someone when I'm a milkshake? I got off the bus and headed home. I walked to the door and noticed that it was slightly open. Did we get robbed? Should I go in? I heard something crash and decided to go in. If someone kills me I'll have to thank them.

I put my bags down and head to where the crash came from. I looked around and heard something get shoved into the wall. It sounded like it was coming from upstairs. I went ot the kitchen to grab a knife. I looked out the window to see dad's car behind someone else's car. It was shiny and black. What the hell is going on here?

I heard a woman scream and rushed up the stairs. I don't care about myself. I have to help the girl. I walked into my room and noticed blood on the carpet. Next to the wall were broken pieces of bloody glass. My bed was messed up and my lamp was by someone's head. I looked up and my dad's hands were bloody. I looked back at the girl. "Lalita," dad said and I backed up. Who is this girl and why is she wearing my locket?

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What's going on? Let me know ur thoughts. Um....nothing else to say but To dream is to dare and to dare is to do.