Abused and Bullied (A One Direction Fanfiction)

Chapter 7

(Warning: If you are in any way triggered by the following, do not read this chapter: depictions of abuse)

Liam stands up, lifting me up with him and sets me back down so I'm standing next to him. He extends his elbow towards me and I hesitantly wrap my arms around it.

 We walk down the stairs, him taking it slow and gentle as to not agitate any of my bruises or my leg.

 Meeting back up with the boys at the front entrance, we all shuffle into their vehicle, but quickly realize there isn't going to be enough room for all of us. 

Niall, who is sitting passenger while Harry drives, grabs my backpack and holds it on his lap. Liam pulls me sideways on his lap, extending my legs across Louis and Zayn's lap. I give Harry directions and after a short five-minute drive, we're at my house.

I get out of the van, Liam and Louis following me out and to the front door. There's no car in the driveway, which means my dad isn't home. Everything will be okay for now.

"Hey, we're gonna' be staying in town for a while. Maybe after class tomorrow you can show us around? I heard something about tomorrow only being a half day?" Louis asks as we approach my front door. 

"Yeah! If anything, we can go and grab coffee quick then I can show you guys around." I say as I stop walking, grabbing my keys from my bag which Louis had grabbed from Niall. 

I unlock the door and turn around to face the boys, not opening the door yet; they don't need to see inside.

"Here, give me your phone," Liam says, reaching his hand forwards. 

I grab my phone from my back pocket and hand it to him, suddenly glad that I had decided to clean my screen last night. He presses a few buttons then hands it back to me. 

"I put my number in your contacts; just call us when you get off of class tomorrow." 

I nod my head and turn around, about to open the door and step inside but am stopped when Liam places his hand on my shoulder. 

"Call if anything  happens," he says, looking sternly into my eyes. 

I nod my head shyly, opening the door and stepping inside, waving goodbye to everyone as I close the door.

I put my phone back in my pocket and walk to my room, stepping over the various pieces of garbage that needed to be cleaned. I set my backpack down on my bed, quickly straightening up my room. 

I grab the dirty clothes from the floor and toss them into the hamper. Once I'm at least satisfied with how my room looks, I move onto the living room, which is a complete mess.

When dad comes home drunk, which has become a normal occurrence the past few years, he passes out on the couch in the living room. After I spray some de-stain product onto the couch and clean it off, I work on the ground. 

I grab all of the empty beer bottles and cans from the ground, tossing them into the garbage bag. Then, I pick up all of the cigarette butts and toss them into the garbage bag as well. With all of the garbage off of the floor, the house looks a lot cleaner.

Just as I'm walking towards the kitchen to throw the bag of garbage by the side door, I hear the front door open. I freeze, turning around to look towards the sound. 

My dad, per usual, stumbles drunkenly through the door, nearly slamming it shut behind him. He walks towards me, ultimately nearly toppling over onto the small kitchen table that barely reached his waist.

Due to him spending nearly all of our money, we didn't have the money for regular household items. Anything I own, including my phone, having gotten it only a few weeks prior, I had to save up for with local job opportunities, including temporary positions at the local café and grocery store.

Just like I normally do when he stumbles into the house drunk, I start to back away from him, slowly moving out of the large room towards my bedroom, where I can secure the door from the inside. 

He doesn't let me get far, grabbing onto my forearm before I can even move to defend myself. I feel his fist roughly connect with my cheek, sending me spiraling down to the floor. I land on my side, bringing my hands up to protect my face, curling my knees towards his stomach.

He kicks, and kicks, and kicks some more, hitting me on my knees and chest. I cry out in pain, trying to bring my knees closer to my chest to protect my ribs. He stops to take a breath, and I use that time as my chance to get out of there. 

Not thinking there will be enough time to make it to my bedroom, I sprint towards the hallway, darting into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind me. 

I twist the piece of metal on the handle, locking the door. A split second later, I see the handle jiggle.

He starts to bang on the door, roughly shaking the large piece of wood. Without second thinking, I grab my phone from my pocket and tap on the contacts icon on my main hot bar. 

I quickly scroll through the list, looking for the one person I feel that I can trust in this type of situation. 

Liam.