"Bitch, don't you dare try to leave and go on sleeping with his bug-eyed ass!" my father yelled, throwing a dictionary at my face, the cover slapping me hard until pain shot up in me.
Cupping my cheek with one hand, I bit back my angry tears and landed one at him. He grabbed my wrist, swinging me across the room and then hurling me at the couch.
"You've always been such a damn slut, Emily. You're a worthless, small, weak, and disrespectful whore."
"Disrespectful?" I mewled.
"DIS-FUCKING-RESPECTFUL?!?!" I screamed, ramming my fists into his abdomen and kneeing his groin.
"That's it," he murmured, dragging me by the arm and opening the door to my room. After he threw me in there, he added, "So much for a daughter who goes on and on about selling her body."
Then slammed the door shut, a framed picture of my late mother falling down.
"DAMN YOU!!" I screeched, tears streaming out of my eyes and throwing a fist at my doors.
"Why, Momma? Why did you have to leave me with him?!" I sobbed to myself.
Dad hasn't always been such a satanic beast; just been like it since Mom died.
Now he claims to his friends that I'm a whore, and sneaking out at night to give my body to a stranger; presumably an older man.
If only I had a better chance at life.
If only Tom were here, he'd give Dad such a beating.
An hour later, I was shaking underneath my blankets as my father's hands clasped at my ankles to draw me out of my only safe haven and into his bedroom, a.k.a., his torture chamber. He tied me to one of the tall bedposts, removing my shirt then my bra. He viciously bit at my flat nipple lustfully, making me squirm in fear but he smacked me. "You know you like it, baby."
Fumbling with his zipper, he slipped his belt out and blew the leather at my tender skin. I felt the welts appearing on my flesh, pain seeming to go beneath my body and scorch my bones; the marrow melting to thin nothingness as his belt struck me again until I saw crimson trickling down my sides.
"Dad, please!" I pleaded, my head lolling to the sides as the belt landed on my shoulder, sharpness nipping at my body.
He set the belt down on the floor and cut the ropes, my wrists all blistering and red.
I battled my tears as he drank some whiskey and lasciviously spanked my butt.
"I'm gonna take a nap in the living room; it'll be possibly three hours. I got zero sleep last night 'cause I was thinking of you."
I tenderly rubbed my wrists until they burned in a all-consuming fire that coursed in several rivulets.
"Have a good one," I said.
He took me to my bedroom thankfully and locked it after he left. I dug under my pillow to unplug my rose- gold iPhone 6 and stuffed it in a turquoise sleeping bag, along with my charger and cube. I found some shampoos, lotions, and perfumes; hiding them under the pile of clean clothes I folded and placing them in the bag.
Tapping into the messages, I texted to Tom,
I'm getting the hell out of my dad's house 😡
He's been giving me hell and I'm so fed up with him; I'm going to your place 😤😤
I zipped up my bag then jiggled with the window lock, opening it quietly then stepping out.
"It's all over," I said to myself. "Escaped out from a relative nightmare.
YOU ARE READING
Our Wild Spirits
Ficção GeralIf only I had another chance at life, thought insecure Emily when she seeks shelter in the arms of her gentle, ruggedly beautiful boyfriend Tom from the abusive clutches of her father after his sadistic beating. She finally finds the freedom she's b...
