Freedom

I will be free

~Chapter 2~I will be free~

Twenty seven times in six years. This was now the twenty eighth time that my father had rapped me. I was now seventeen and nothing had changed since that first time when I was eleven. He still hit and he still hurt. The only thing that had changed was that I was stronger. But he didn't know that. I got up from my bed, a dull aching between my legs reminding me what my father had done moments before. The aching would soon leave but the memories would always stay. Engraved into my mind. I knew I had to find a way out of this. Somehow, I'd get away from my father's torment. One way or another I'd be free. I knew how to do it. I knew that I could easily leave and to anyone it seems crazy that I hadn't yet, but there are ways of being free. Ways that would be safe, with no worries of him coming after me. I knew that in less then a year, I graduated and then I'd be gone and no way in hell was I ever coming back. When I turned eighteen I would be free. I would be an adult. But graduation was my get out of jail card. All I had to do was wait. Over the years of the abuse, the yelling and the rape, I had gotten stronger. I knew how to stand up to people. I knew how to fight. With the childhood that I had had, I never broke or became weak. To him I was, to him I was just some vulnerable little girl, too stupid to take action. To stupid to realise. But I was smart, smart enough to take him down.

At first, I was upset that my dad didn't notice how intelligent I was. That I had good grades and that I excelled in school. He never knew that I'd gotten asked by my principal if I wanted to move up a grade and he never knew that I'd refuse just so he didn't know how intelligent I was. By the age of thirteen, I knew that if he kept thinking that I was a weak, stupid child, I'd be able to take him down. I thought so many times about telling someone about what my father was doing to me but part of me was a little scared that no one would do anything about it like when my mother had died and that I'd have to stay with him and suffer the consequences of telling on him. But another part of me knew that I was strong enough to wait for the right moment. The moment where he'd do something that would ensure his ass was in jail for life. The moment where I was done school. The moment where I could finally be free.

I pulled my sweatpants on over my bruised and scratched legs and slipped on one of my moms old college long sleeve shirt. I knew he had left. The bastard always left after a hit. He was never around and I was happy about that. I lived mostly alone. The only time he came was to beat me. I didn't know where he lived when he wasn't in the same house as me and I couldn't say I cared. I grabbed a few things and dropped them in my duffel bag. I grabbed my car keys that were tapped under my desk. He didn't know I had a car that was parked up the block. He didn't know I had a job. He didn't know I played sports. He didn't know about my life. He didn't know me. My life was a complete secret. It had to be that way if I wanted to be free.

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Ok second chapter. i know its short.

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lemme know what you think:)