Tasting Blood (ON HOLD)

Chapter 2

Ella's POV 

“Run! Keep running Ella.” I chanted to myself. I needed to get out of here. I hated my life. It hasn’t always been like this. I used to love my life. But that was a long time ago. And like my mother used to say; what happened, happened, it’s in the past now. Most of the time people see that in a good way; forget about the troubles and all that shit, but never has anyone ever thought that that stupid saying isn’t always as positive as it seems. My past was a good memory and I was now living in hell.

Suddenly I woke up with angry shouts surrounding me. I quickly sat up straight, straining my neck to look around my room, trying to find the source where the shouting came from. But sitting up this sudden made my head spin. My muscles felt stiff, I could barely move. I couldn’t hear properly and black spots were dancing in front of my eyes.

Before I realized what was happening my covers were being pulled away from my body, the cold air made contact with my bare skin and suddenly I was thrown off the bed. My feet tangled in the remaining sheets at the end of my bed made me tumble to the ground, my head made contact with the bedside table on my left. I gasped when a horrible pain shot through my body and my head started pounding.

“Get up, you piece of shit!” John, my step-father sneered. I wanted to obey him and do what he demanded, but I couldn’t, I was feeling dizzy and I knew that If I would try and get up now, I would pass out. And I did not want that to happen, I wouldn’t want to know what he would do to me while I was out.  My hands folded around my head. It hurt. I pulled my hand away from my head, feeling warm liquid rolling down my face. I looked down at my hand. Warm, red. I was bleeding.

I averted my gaze from my blood covered hands to the angry man in front of me. John was taking long strides towards me. He stopped right in front of me and reached for my hair. He grabbed me by it and pulled me of the floor. A scream left my throat earning a hard slap across the cheek. My cheek felt like it was on fire. Although I have had worse, it still hurt.

“That was for screaming, how many times have I told you not to scream?!” He roared angrily. I whimpered, closing my eyes, waiting for another strike. And just like I had expected; it came.

“Look at me when I speak, you filthy waste of space!” He screamed. Spit flying out of his mouth. His breath stank. The smell of his usual Devil Springs Vodka was clearly noticeable. However the smell of Absinthe was all over him as well. I never understood how he could get those alcohol drinks, they were banned away from this country. They were two of the most alcoholic drinks ever to scorch your throat.

I opened my eyes, still trying to block out the pain of him pulling my hair. It felt like he was ripping it out of my head.

“Please.” I begged, trying to get him to lose his grasp on me. He scowled at me and dropped me to the ground. He kicked me in the stomach before leaving me on the ground in a heap.

“I told you to get up immediately, that’s what you get for not listening.” He scowled, I didn’t answer him, knowing it would just make everything worse.

“Be downstairs in five minutes, If not, I’ll make sure you aren’t able to walk for a week.” He spat.  I nod weakly, lying  on the ground, clutching my stomach with one hand and applying pressure on the wound on my head to make it stop bleeding.

I took a glance at the clock on my bedside table. 1:49 AM. I sat up slowly and trying to keep my balance and to not fall again. I forced myself towards the bathroom and it was some kind of déjà vu being here. I don’t know but I got a weird feeling when I walked into the bathroom, I just couldn’t lay my finger on it.

I inspected my head in the mirror. There was a cut in it, not too deep, so I would survive, I’ve had worse. I washed my face and undressed. I walked to my closet and opened it. I hadn’t much clothes. My step-father never bought  me  any of that. I always had to look for clothes which were worn out or in a bad condition. After I had changed I hurried downstairs, hoping my step-father wouldn’t notice me being a minute or so late.