A Stone Turned Soft

Chapter 4

Layla had a long week. It was a week of meetings, schoolwork, shopping, schoolwork, relearning proper social interaction skills, and, oh yeah, schoolwork. She was finally ready for transfer so now she had a long day in front of her as well. A big day was more like it. She was going to meet her foster family for the first time. Foster family. Wow, that felt weird. After the year of being with foster families and countless amounts of escaping and transferring, she never thought she'd be back in another home. A real home where they actually cared for one another and had home cooked meals and a large labradoodle named Lassie. She had never had that; even in her real family she never had that. She and her mom were close when she was a kid, but that little taste of love she had was short lived. When she was 8, her mom left in the middle of the night, taking with her Layla's ability to trust anyone. It was her father's fault. He was always drunk on anything he could find, always getting high off of illegal marijuana, always staying out late with one slutty girlfriend after another, which left Layla home alone a lot. When he was home, he was always either really hungover or really drunk and in a constant bad mood. Layla hated many things about her father, but the thing she hated most about him was how he talked to her, and that's what he did most. He constantly told her she was ugly, that her wardrobe was trash, or that she should get rid of her makeup because it didn't help her anyway. He told her these things almost daily and the worst part was that she let herself believe his words. Every time she looked at herself in the mirror, she hated the person looking back at her, her father's words poisoning her mind and echoing through her ears. Instead of seeing her 'better parts,' such as her blue eyes sprinkled with gold specks or her perfect, acne-free skin, she saw nothing but her unruly hair or her chin that stuck out far from her face. For 6 years, she allowed herself to be bullied by her own flesh and blood. Until one day, she snapped. Her bike was in the shop so she asked her father for a ride home from school. For an hour and a half she stayed in her teacher's room. Finally, he showed up drunk and with a bottle of beer in his hands.

"Where have you been, dad? School ended almost 2 hours ago."

"Shut up, girl. I am sick and tired of you expecting me to cater to you hand and foot. I put food in the fridge and a roof over your head."

"That's all you do!" she snapped, "I do everything around the house and all you do is squander away your money and get drunk with your friends and you think you can take it out on me!"

"What did you just say to me?" he said getting so close she could smell the alcohol in his breath

"You heard me. Youー"

He slapped her. She screamed. "Shut up," he growled as he attempted to drag her out by the hair.

Suddenly she heard someone yell, "Hey!" It was her teacher. She had never been so happy to see him. "What's going on here?" he demanded

"Nothing. Just something going on with my daughter." he said putting on a softer look, "Come on let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she escaped from his firm grasp. "I am not your daughter and you're not my father."

"What are you talking about? I swear, you're getting more and more mental by the day. Now come on!" he grunted, "Let's go," he said digging his hands into her arm

"Don't touch me! Don't you ever touch me! Not anymore. I've lived under your tyranny for long enough."

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave this school," her teacher said in a miraculously calm voice

"I don't have to listen to you," he retorted. He glared at Layla with his cold hard face. "And you. This is just like you, always ungrateful for the work I do for you."