Tw: mentions of abuse, sexual assault, pedophilia, alcohol, suicidal thoughts/actions. Crying, panic attack. Uncensored word 'r**e'(no, not rope. Don't make that joke.)
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Becky was a bitch.
Everyone knew. She was rude, stuck up, and she said slurs.
Plus, she had the perfect home life. At least, that's what everyone thought.
Becky's hand lay on the doorknob of the front door, tears pricking her eyes. Only her father would be home.
Her home life was far from perfect. She didn't know where anyone got that idea from.
Her father's breath always reeked of alcohol.
If her mother wasn't home, her father either drunkenly preached to no one about how being gay was bad, or he...
Becky shivered just thinking of the things he did to her. She opened the door and stepped in, silently praying that he would be drunkenly preaching.
Alas.
As she closed the door, he called out her name.
"BECKY!" he yelled, though Becky wished he had been drunk. She learned the hard way to go to him when he called her.
She went to his room, where he was sober. He stood up and grabbed her hands. She had to resist the urge to jerk away from him.
"You know... you know Daddy loves you, right?"
Becky wanted to scream.
Instead she clenched her jaw and nodded.
His hands went to her sides, feeling down to her thighs.
He pushed her down on the bed and began to strip her of her clothes.
Becky wished she was dead.
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The next morning, Becky still felt a stinging sensation from what her father had done. She wanted to cover herself up, wear a sweater and leggings and a skirt and converse. But everyone knew her as a confident person. Mostly someone who showed skin. She knew people called her a slut.
She pretended that it didn't hurt.
So she put on a red crop top and lavender shorts.
And she forced herself to smile, her lips painted a bright red.
She was breaking her own heart, forcing herself to be something she isn't.
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Izzy heard crying.
"Do you guys hear that?" He asked.
it was getting louder, with a few yelps of pain here and there... someone was hurt.
Matt nodded. "Yeah, it's coming from behind the old art room."
Whoever was crying really had no reason to be hiding, as it was a bit after school, everyone else had left.
Everyone else nodded and muttered their agreements.
Izzy went to go see who it was.
Everyone else followed.
Of all people he was expecting, he didn't expect a black haired, pale girl who their whole friend group hated. Especially not that girl, because she was sobbing and digging her nails into her arms, scraping them back so she drew blood.
"Becky?" Izzy asked, in damn near disbelief.
Becky's head snapped up. Her arms scraped down the whole of her arm, not drawing blood all over but enough was drawn.
