Panic! They're adopting you

Prolouge

My life didn't used to be this terrible. I didn't used to have to deal with bullies or my father's abuse. He actually used to be a loving, caring, fully functional, human being. That all changed when my mother died. I had been home sick and she was caring for me.

 We had run out of medicine and she sent my brother to go get some, she then realised that there were other things we needed, so she went to try and catch him before he got too far. We didn't have a car and the grocers was about 2 miles away. She was crossing the street to catch my brother who had stopped when he heard her yell his name. And a person speeding hit her. We were told she died on impact and that she wouldn't have felt any pain. This was apparently meant to console us and I guess it did to a certain extent but, then came the blame, the drinking, and the bullying.

As soon as we got home from the hospital, Dad cracked open a beer, grabbed the rest of the case and told me and my brother to leave him alone. I assumed this was normal behavior and that night I slept in my brothers room, we both pretended we couldn't hear his screams of agony throughout the night and eventually fell asleep. 

In the weeks following this, he progressively got worse. He would yell over little things, and he always had a beer near him. The last night I saw my brother was the night before he left, the night before everything went completely to hell. The morning after was the first time and what i had naively hoped would be the last time, he was physical.

 That morning I was awoken by a slap to the face, I was dragged out of my bed by my hair and into the living room where my father repeatedly kicked me in the stomach. "Stop, Dad, Stop! Please! Why are you doing this?" I yelled through my tears. 

    "It's your fault he left" He whispered. He then stopped kicking, looking lost in thought. I started to pull myself to my room, thinking he had been efficiently distracted. But, upon hearing those words, I stopped. "What do you mean he left? Where's my brother? Why is it my fault?" I should have kept crawling to my room, I shouldn't have stopped, I shouldn't have given him the chance to grab my ankle and start pulling me back.

"All. Your. Fault!" Each word was punctuated with a kick to the stomach.

"Please tell me what happened." I whispered. I figured that the stabbing pain in my abdomen combined with his piss poor attitude meant that I wasn't  going to get very far if I ran. "He left a note on the kitchen table saying he was 'sorry for leaving us' and he 'couldn't handle being around us now.' He left us. All of this because you needed some fucking medicine. Your mother is dead and your brother is gone, because you went and let yourself get sick! I'm going to give you a reason to be sick." He whispered the last bit and then kneeled over me and started punching my already injured stomach. The last punch he landed was to my face and I sank into a blissfully unconscious state.

The next day I had school. I knew my dad would not be happy to hear that I was late or absent from school after last night's "discussion" and the beating during the morning before it. I walked into the school and heard the whispers.

"What happened to her face?" 

"Did you know her mom was killed recently? If she was my daughter I'd want to be dead too."

 " Her brother left her and her dad, he was a coward anyway."  COuldn't I at least catch a break at school? I walked over to my friends only to be hit in the stomach with a book bag. After yesterday morning and last night, it was a miracle my ribs didn't break as I collapsed to the ground. 

" DId you really thing we liked you? DId you really think we were friends? C'mon, we never liked you! We only wanted to get to know your brother. You're pathetic, and weak! You deserve everything that's happened to you." said Cynthia. Then she leaned in close. "I know what your dad did to you yesterday, I wouldn't recommend telling one about that, yeah? Oh, and if you tell anyone about that or anything we do to you in the future, you'll wish you had been the one killed."  How did they find out? How did they know about last night?  A kick aimed at my already bruised face hit its target, and I fell unconscious once more.

That was two years ago... And so the story begins