Wishing I Could Save Myself from a Life I Despise: My Shadowed Life Series

Chapter 6: Happy Birthday

******Warning this chapter contains sensitive material pertaining to sex and /or abuse*****

The abuse in this is a little bothersome, so if you can't handle it, please skip over it & you will get the gist in the following chapters. Please comment,vote & enjoy!!

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Chapter 6: Happy Birthday

 I opened the front door and prayed, to any God that would hear me, for Carl to be passed out. No such luck. Why I expected mercy, I had no idea. There was no God. No God would let the things that happened to me, continue to happen. I used to believe in God, but not since I was 16 years old.

I quietly snuck through the foyer and attempted to get up to my room unnoticed. If I could only get past him, maybe he would think I wasn’t home yet and continue to drink himself into unconsciousness. It has happened before that his alcoholism had saved me, more than once. Just as I crept past the living room, I heard him call out to me. Damn, I’m screwed!

“There’s daddy’s little whore. Come give daddy a kiss hello.” Carl demanded with slurred words. I wanted to be sick. I was scared as hell and I was angry, very angry. My feet moved unwillingly until I stood before him. My stomach turned at the close proximity. He kissed me gently on the cheek and whispered in my ear.

 “Happy Birthday.” He remembered? Why am I so surprised? This day was a special anniversary for him. To me it meant nothing but misery and pain. It hadn’t meant anything since I turned 16. The only reason I celebrated my 17th and 18th birthday, was for Tristan. It was his birthday too and he deserved happiness, even if he didn’t realize I lived in constant pain and torment.

 “What’s so happy about it? Tristan’s dead, he was the only thing that mattered to me.” I whispered more to myself than to him. He leaned in so close to me, with his face only inches from mine.

 “Do you want your present sweet cheeks?” He slurred and stumbled a little. His hand found my ass and gripped it tightly. It made me furious as hell. I was tired, so tired of all of this. I wanted to die and this day seemed like the perfect time. If I couldn’t do it myself, I would provoke him into it.

 “I don’t want a freaking present from you!” I shouted and pushed his hand off of my backside.

 “Don’t be like that… I know you want it.” He leaned closer to me, a menacing look played on his face. I had to try, there was no other choice. This was it, this was my end.

“You’re wrong, I don’t want it! Not if it’s the same thing you have given me for my birthday and so many other days for the last four years, you sick bastard!” I screamed and pushed him away from me. I was considerably smaller than him and was definitely no match for him. He barely stumbled but regained his equilibrium.

 Before I knew it, he hit my face with his closed fist, splitting my lip and instantly bruising my already bruised cheek. It hurt like hell and I wanted to cry, but I would not shed another tear because of my pervert father. I waited patiently for another strike. I welcomed it, wishing it would be hard enough to snap my neck like it did my mother’s. But that strike never came.

 “Go fix my supper little bitch.” He ordered from his recliner chair. He was distracted by his bottle of whiskey. Maybe I could avoid his torture after all.

I spent about 20 minutes preparing his favorite meal, chicken parmesan, and another 30 minutes baking it. I considered putting rat poison in it, but the thought of getting raped in jail turned me off quickly. After almost an hour free of torment, I served his plate and brought it to him.