That girl named Tilly.

Chapter Eight

Driving down the road leading back to the place the incident happened, Tilly looked around and reminisced about all the childhood memories of her brother and her playing in the front garden and running around the streets pretending to be superheros; cops and robbers and pretend that they would be in a different place, away from the hell they called home.
Matilda pulled the car up just outside of her childhood home and got out the drivers seat, standing in the street for a second before slamming the door shut and walking up to the front door. As she approached, she noticed that the windows were boarded up and the door was bolted shut; meaning she couldn't get in. Looking around, she heard somebody yelling her, so she turned on her heel and saw an older woman stood at the base of the stairs, watching her.

"Hello dear; are you lost?"

Tilly shook her head and looked back at the door; a sad look on her face. The woman walked up the stairs and stood besides the young woman, putting her arms around her shoulders pulling her away and back towards the car. As they looked each other in the eye, the elder woman got a proper look at her, and her face changed.

"I-I-I'm sorry! I didn't me-mean to disturb you!"

Then, she turned and ran; leaving Matilda to watch as she ran down the alley. As she pondered what she was going to do to get in the house, another car pulled up besides hers and she heard the door slam shut and a sigh-and she instantly knew who it was-sending her into a panic which caused her to hide behind the car. Her father walked up the stairs to the front door and pull out a key-unlocking the door and stepping inside.
After the door slammed shut behind him, Tilly rose from her hiding place slowly-anger and hurt riddled her bones and she almost burst through the door with her weapon in her hand...but she stopped. She thought about all her father put her and her family through-and how she wanted to avenge them-but this was not the way. So, instead, she got into her car and drove away.
But, she never made it onto the main road, a loud bang went off, followed by a smash of glass, causing her to swerve the car and roll it off the road. As the car turned, she felt her leg snap and the glass slicing into her face. The pain wasn't the issue to her, the issue was that she didn't know what happened. Finally, the car stopped rolling, landing on the roof of itself-but the girl couldn't get out the car because the door had been damaged so much, it couldn't open. The window was smashed to hell but she couldn't move due to her bruised leg.

"Oh, baby girl..."

Her struggles freeze, the voice of the man who was supposed to protect her through thick and thin, was standing over her face with a sad look. Crouching, he put his hand on her cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. This pissed off Matilda so much, she clamped her teeth down on it and bit down so hard he started to scream and pull away-but he managed to get free, with almost all this thumb. He looked at his daughter, who spat out a small about of skin alone with some blood from her mouth as she glared up at him-and his emotions went from sad, to anger. So angry, in fact, he charged at the girl and grabbed her by the shoulders to pull her out the car, making her cringe but no screaming.
When she was free from her tin prison; she was picked up bridal style and taken to the undamaged car, and placed against the bonnet whilst her father pulled out a tie and wrapped it around her wrists before he pushed her into the backseat, causing her to finally show a small amount of emotion as she whimpered when she landed hard on the leather seats.

"You shouldn't have left the place, honey. I don't wanna hurt you. So what I'm gonna do is take you home to the farm and call the place, then they're gonna send somebody to come get you so you get better. And then you can come back home, and we will be a normal; happy family."

Matilda managed to wiggle her way into a sat up position, and stared at her dad through the mirror, no thought running through her mind other than that she needed a new escape plan-but this one had to be...special. It had to be inventive, but most of all-she had to ask questions. That meant talking, and that is what scared her. She hadn't uttered a word in over ten years, but she knew that needed to change.

And it needed to change, fast.