Abused

Chapter 1

His fist collides with my face. I get knocked backward and my head slams against my wardrobe. "Why did she leave us?" My dad slurred.

Tears run down my face as I try to get back up. The next thing I know, a whiskey bottle is being thrown at me. It smashes right beside my face. Glass shatters everywhere, small fragments go into my face, I bite my lip hard as I try to keep my sobs contained.

"Slut." I hear him mutter before leaving. Slowly, I get up trying not to get any glass in my feet. I go to the door and shut it. I wish there was a lock but, I've learned that if you try and stop him from getting to you, the beating is much worse. I sink to the floor as I sob in my hands. Oh, how I wish I was dead.

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I wake up just before my alarm clock goes off. I turn it off and slip out of bed, wincing at every slight movement. I barely slept last night, it took me ages to clean up and get all of the glass out of my skin. My face was littered with tiny cuts. The bruise under my eye is black and purple and it hurts so much. To make life worse, today is my first day of senior year.

I cover my bruises with concealer and foundation. And coat my eyelashes with mascara. The cuts are not very visible with the mask of makeup. I pull on a navy blue jacket, making sure my sleeves cover all my arm. I wear some ripped black jeans and some 'old school' vans. I run my hand through my thick dirty blonde hair and decide to just leave it down.

After brushing my teeth I go downstairs, Dad has already left for work. I look at the table and there are some flowers and a note. I pick up the note. I've had hundreds of these notes and flowers before; all empty apologies.

'I'm so sorry for last night, I promise I'll never do it again. I love you so much, good luck in senior year -Dad'

The deep overwhelming sadness floods through me. I think my depression has reached a new level of bad. The constant sadness and emptiness fill me all the time. I feel like I'm carrying this heavy weight with me and I can never shift it. Its choking me, the immense sensation of misery is slowly eating me alive...

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I sit in my new homeroom class alone. Groups of kids are sitting together, giggling and chatting.

The classroom door swings open. "Who the hell invented stairs?" He wheezes and the class falls silent and looks at him. "What you've never seen Beyonce in man form?!" He rolled his eyes at them.

The teacher coughs "You must be Jack" she looks at him with a sort of disgusted look. Jack grimaced at her and looked around the classroom. Most of the seats are taken. He looks at me. I gulped slightly and quickly look away.

He walks over to me and throws his bag on the table. He pulls a chair out and looks at me "I'm Ja-"

"Excuse me, I don't appreciate being ignored. It's your first day and you are already late." The teacher interrupts and walks over. I watch them as he continues to respond with sarcastic remarks. She finally leaves, muttering under her breath about how rude young people are.

"Anyway babe, I'm Jack." He grinned. I smiled and took in his appearance. His skin was pale and his hair was a chestnut brown. His nails were painted black and he had several band names written on his hand.

"Hi. I'm P-Primrose." I stuttered, no louder than a whisper. The sound of my own voice made my face go red. He furrowed his brows.

My situation at home and the constant isolation has had a real negative effect on me. The doctor told my dad to keep trying to talk to me but slowly I have begun to say less and less. However I am not mute, I just find it extremely difficult to form words and I loathe the sound of my own voice.

"You're a shy one." A smile grew on his face as my face went an even brighter red. "It's fine, don't stress it."

I smiled back, feeling relieved. I could tell I liked him a lot. I've never actually had a real friend before. Mom left when I was about 13 and I stopped going to school. So Dad ended up getting me homeschooled since. But A levels are much harder to get a high school diploma, so I had to go to college.

He pulled out his phone and opened it. His screensaver was him and another boy. The other boy was kissing Jack's cheek. I smiled, it was so cute but genuinely made me feel so single. He opened up his call log.

"Add your number, Prim ." He looked up at me and smiled. I took it, my hands slightly shaking. Why the hell are my hands shaking?! I typed my number in and saved it. "Are you an internal student?"

I shook my head yes. "Good, that means we are in this together. What do you take?"

Fuck, I have to speak. "English, Politics, and Art." I muster up, my words coming out softly and only slightly louder than a whisper. He grins.

"Ayee, English together." He spoke slowly. "But who the hell takes politics!" He laughs. We compare our schedules and luckily we have a lot of free time together.

My first lesson is English. "It's in the art block, what the fuck?" Jack groans as we made our way to the classroom. We were early and chose seats in the back. The room had obviously been renovated from an art room to an English room; there was carpet on the floor and no art on display, however, there were a couple of boxes and easels in the corner of the room. The class slowly began to fill up and everyone picked their seats.

The door opened and a young man walked in. I was still getting stuff out of my bag.

"Jesus Christ, take me now Daddy." I heard Jack whisper under his breath. I looked up in confusion and my eyes met the teacher.

GOD DAMN