Trusting My Brothers

Chapter 1

Liliana Daily Thoughts

I am all alone. I may have my mother and Stepdad, Nate, but can I call them my parents? Parents don't do the things that they do to me. Parents don't beat their kids for arriving a couple minutes late. They don't yell things at you that leave scars mentally. They don't try to sell you for money so that they can buy drugs and alcohol. My parents don't care about me at all. My mom used to be a good person, until she started dating the wrong men. This has been going on since I was five, and I am now fourteen. I am broken, and no one will be able to save me.

My daily routine has not changed for the past four years. I get up at 5:30, shower, get dressed in my clothes that cover most of my bruises, put makeup on to cover my face, make breakfast for my parents, leave to go to school, go work at the coffee shop, come home before 5:00, make dinner, hopefully not get beaten, and get ready for bed. Anytime I make breakfast or dinner late, I get a beating so bad, that I can barely walk and the bruises stay for a good week or two. 

Unfortunately for me, today is one of those days. I accidentally took too long of a shower and am now running down the stairs as fast as I can so I can quickly whip up some breakfast. I was still cooking when my Stepdad and mom came down, so when they saw me, they pulled me back by my hair. 

"You bitch! You were supposed to have breakfast on the table right now." He spat at me and threw me against the wall. My mom punched me in the stomach while holding my throat so I couldn't breathe. 

"Please...Please stop. I'm...sorry." I said while trying to take a breathe. 

"You should be sorry." my mom said. She let me go and I fell on the floor, which gave Nate the opportunity to repetitively kick me in my ribs. He eventually stopped, and I then get up to finish making the food so that they don't hurt me even worse. Once done, I put it on the table, and go up to my room to see how bad the beating was today.

The minute I got in front of the mirror, I couldn't hold back my tears. I had a hand shape bruise on my neck as well as a couple of nail punctures. My ribs were already turning into a shade a purple, though I knew it would be worse in a couple of days. I grab my makeup bag and put concealer on to cover the one on my neck. Then, I go to my bed to get the painkillers that I hide underneath it. I take two paracetamol before putting the bottle in my book bag and leaving to go to school. The walk is about twenty minutes but since I am running late, I have to make it in fifteen.

Luckily, I made it to school on time and I go to my locker to see Ariana, the popular/mean girl, standing next to it waiting for me. I ignore her and start to get my books for my classes. 

"Did you do my homework for me, slut?" 

I turn to her and say, "And why would I do that? I am not your slave." She look angry and she lifts her hand to slap me. I grab her wrist before it can make contact and twist her arm behind her back. 

"You shouldn't have tried to do that." I whisper in her ear. She tries to get out of my grip but instead of letting go, I throw her against the lockers. If you think I am a bully, you are mistaken. People like Ariana are and I am one of the people that don't take crap from them so I fight back. Now I don't fight my parents because I know that would make things worse. I leave her on the ground and walk to my first class of the day.

During lunch, I hang out in the library with my tray of food from the cafeteria. I don't have any friends since I am antisocial and quiet. There was a time where I had the best friend I possibly could have. His name was Liam and he was my friend for over four years. He knew about the abuse I am going through but I made him swear not to tell anyone since I would then have to go into the foster system. I was sad when he moved a year ago because he was the only good thing in my life and was the reason I was mentally stable. Now, I suffer from anxiety and depression, which are terrible to go through at the same time. Whenever I have an anxiety attack, I use pain as a way to bring myself back and that is not healthy.

After school, I go to the coffee shop and get to work. Today is also the day I get my paycheck. My parents don't know I have a job so I get to keep all the money I make. Right before I leave, I go see the manager and I get $500 for the month.  

I make my way home and start dinner but before I can turn the stove on, I hear a knock on the door. I open the door to see two police officers standing there with a look of pity. 

"May I help you, officers?" 

The one on the right says, "I'm sorry honey but your parents got into a car accident and didn't make it." They both look at me like they expect me to break down crying. I never cry in front of anyone. The last time I cried in front of someone, it was with Liam. Besides, I don't feel sad, I feel relieved that they can't hurt my anymore. 

"So where am I supposed to live?" I ask. They looked a little shocked but still answered. 

"We looked at your moms DNA to see if we could find any matches and we found some people willing to take you in." 

"Who?" As far as I know, my mom doesn't have anyone. 

"Your older brothers."