Abusively Adored

Chapter 1

I lay on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. Boxes tower around me, boxes on top of boxes on top of boxes. My faded blue skinny jeans are ripped and soaked, the red plaid shirt and white tank-top cling to my body. My long black curls fall down my back, spread along the floor. My hazel eyes want to close shut, just sleep. My cell phone vibrated and I pick it up, looking at the message.

-You may think that you've gotten away, but this is just the start of it all.

I sigh, putting my phone down. My eyes close, wanting to be consumed by darkness. Escape from this illusion called life. What's the point of even being here when there is nothing but torment, disease, and people who claim to love you with a blade that's sharp right behind them?

"AMELIA!" my Mom yells. I get up and walk downstairs. My Mom crosses her arms, tapping her foot. Her ice blue eyes show her anger, her blonde hair is in a messy bun, and her blue dress is wrinkled and covered by an apron with more stains than a fat guy eating a 12-inch meatball sandwich.

"Yes, Mother?" I ask with slight irritation.

"Don't talk to me in such a tone! You tracked water through the house! Why are you in wet clothes anyways?!" she screams at me.

"It's not water, it's gasoline," I say in a monotone voice. My Mom's eyes widen as she walks up to me. I just shift all my weight to my left leg, crossing my arms. If she's going to throw a fit, I will walk out of here. I stare her in the eyes, waiting for her response.

"Why do you have gasoline on you?" Mom asks, slightly worried.

"Bastards trying to burn me. They thought it would be funny to see the 'outcast' on fire. They were shouting, "BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!" I tried to get away but luckily a cop was turning around the corner, doing patrol. They booked it and I walked home," I explain. My Mom just stood there, stunned at the news that I told her. She sat at the table and cries. My face is blank, used to these kinds of situations.

I mean, yeah, I do want to comfort my Mom and tell her everything will be alright and get better, but it's not. It's okay is nothing but a pathetic excuse for words of comfort. I hold my Mom's hand and looked into her eyes with a slight smile.

"Don't worry about me. I can handle it," I say, trying to fake the uncertainty in my words. Mom turns my arms over, pulling up my sleeves and, shows my scars. She sobs harder and she broke.

"How can I let my daughter suffer this alone?! I'm the mother, you're the daughter. Let me be a mom and take care of those punk ass bastards-" Mom starts to trail off.

"Mom," I say, slightly louder than before.

"I can't let you go through this alone. Please promise me?" she asks, pain pouring with each word. I lock my pinky with hers and smile.

"Promise."

~❤~

All boxes in recycling, I got a shower. I threw on grey shorts and a black tank-top. I look at the picture of my Dad and I. I rest my fingers on the glass of the picture frame and close my eyes.

'Miss you, Daddy. They better be treating you good up there.'

I lay on my bed, closing my eyes. The first night before forever began.