Wake Up Call

CHAPTER 1

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Avery

SEVEN YEARS OLD...

"GET YOUR DIRTY HANDS OFF of me, you son of a bitch! No! Don't you dare leave. Don't fucking do it."

I wake to the sound of my mother screaming. The loudness never seems to end. Not even when I close my eyes. It's so loud that it's causing my head to hurt. It hurts so much that I can't take it. I try. I swear I do. I'm always a good girl, but it doesn't seem to do me any good.

Yanking my favorite fleece blanket over my head for comfort, the tears stream down my pink, puffy cheeks -never stopping. I hold it tighter and tighter with each crash, but it's not doing much for me. The noises are still coming from in my house. I'm so scared. I'm always scared.

I wish I could run away and hide, but I know I can't leave my bedroom or else I will end up getting in more trouble, so instead I sit with my head on my knees, helpless. I pull the blanket as tightly as I can and rock back and forth, singing "Twinkle, twinkle little star-" I jump as something else breaks. I bury my head further between my knees and begin to hum more of the song.

"No! Leave Avery out of this," my mother cries. "It's not her fault! Shit-"

I hold back a sob, afraid of being heard, as I clap my hands against my ears to drown out the noise, but I know it won't help. Covering my ears never helps. It never keeps the monster away.

The screams are closer now. "No," I whisper to myself, "I've been good. I've been so good."

I jump back and hit my head on the dirty wall as my daddy kicks my door open with a loud bang. They come stumbling inside as I poke my head out from under my blanket. I know I shouldn't look, but I can't help it. If it gets rid of the monsters then I promise I won't look next time. I promise, cross my heart.

My daddy forces my mommy onto the wooden floor. She keeps screaming and crying, but he won't let go of her wrists. I jump back and scream as daddy slaps mommy across the face. I know it hurts, because it hurts me too. Daddy has a big hand.

My daddy turns to me and his eyes look so wild and scary. I don't want him to hit me anymore. Why does he hate me so much? He's supposed to love me.

I scream out, "No daddy. I've been good. I even ate my carrots today. I don't like them, but I ate them so I could be a good girl." I cry and cry, but he continues to walk toward me, until he's leaning over me, with his hand above me.

"No, please!"

I WAKE UP DRIPPING WITH sweat, my body shaking uncontrollably as I try to come back to reality. I throw my hands over my face and exhale in a pointless attempt to calm my racing mind, even though it never seems to work. Nothing. Ever. Works.

It has been over one year since I packed my suitcase, moving here to Westville, Florida, and yet the nightmares still haunt me almost every night, destroying what's left of me, and trust me; that's not much. It's exhausting as hell. So exhausting, I can barely manage through the day.

Forcing myself out of bed, I stumble my way to the bathroom of my crappy, one-bedroom apartment, and stare into the mirror at my mascara-streaked face; results of not washing last night's make up off after an eventful night of pointless partying.

After taking a long, hard look at myself, trying to picture what these big emerald eyes would look like without these horrendous bags under them, I pull my tangled black hair out of my eyes and splash a handful of icy water over my face. I shiver and goose bumps prickle my flesh, causing me to want to crawl back into bed and sleep like every normal damn person is probably doing at the moment. Unfortunately, I don't have that luxury.