-Author's Note-
Absolutely no hate on Karen!:| this book makes her seem like such a bitch. Just remember that I love her.
-Piper-Prologue-
I yelped as my stepfather's hand collided against my cheek. I was getting used to it , you know. My stepfather was a cruel man. It's devastating, what he does. It's even more painful when I realise that my stepfather just doesn't care. About me and about my beautiful mother. I spotted her in the corner of the room, her jaw dropped. This was the first time that mother had witnessed Sam, my stepfather's, beatings taking place on my frail body.
The reason my mother had never witnessed it was that she was never home. She was always out on 'business trips' and stuff like that. I still love her, but couldn't she take the occasional day off?
"PEIDIWCH!" mother had yelled, screaming at Sam in our first language. Yes, we may live in Ireland, but Welsh had always been easier for my mother and step father to communicate using.
Translation: "Don't!"
"Wyt ti'n eisiau dod yma? Ti'n gwybod ydych chi'n eisiau gwneud o, Karen." Sam whispered, sending sparks of anger to flow throughout my body.
Translation: "Do you want to come here? You know you want to, Karen."
I shuddered at the mental image of my mother being beaten by my stepfather. Whipped. Slapped. Kicked. Punched. These images were replaying in my head, yet never getting stabbed. I couldn't imagine it, because it had never happened to me, though I had a knife dragged across the top few layers of the flesh on my body countless times..
I shook my head vigorously at my mother's figure, indicating to her to either stay where she was, or sprint as if her life depended on it, which it did, and leave her. Sam leapt forward towards my mother, his hand latching onto a sharp blade.
"Os dych chi'n gwybod beth syn da am eu teulu, dych chi'n mynd i gwylio Piper cael poen. Os dwyt ti ddim, wel...." he whispered, manically.
Translation:"If you know what's better for your family, you're going to watch Piper get hurt. If you don't, well...."
I hiccuped through tears. Sam shook his head, walking out of the door. Just before he closed the door completely, he stuck his head and one of his arms out of the door, pointing to me.
"TI! Dydy hyn ddim yn gorffen." he growled.
Translation:"YOU! This isn't over."
I let out a shaky breathe before turning to my mother. Her eyebrows creased. I was about to apologise, but her mouth opened first.
"Leave."
I was taken aback.
"Okay, come on. I don't want to have to pack your bags on my own." I joked.
"I'm not going."
"What do you mean?"
"You brought burden on my life. Leave."
"Where to?"
"The streets, duh."
"What?"
"Go on the streets. Live there. I will never tell you where your father or brother are."
"Why? Why do I have to live on the streets?"
"Because."
"Why not tell me where dad is?"
"Because you don't deserve a home. Anyway, he left you. Dumped you. Destroyed my life."
"W-what?"
"LEAVE!" she screamed.
"Mum."
"Get. Out."
"Please!"
"No."
I sobbed, climbing the rattling stairs. I grabbed a duffle bag, filling it with my ratty clothes, a blanket, my teddy/pillow thing and some bottles of water with a purse filled with a lone five pound note stuffed in the pocket of my hand-me-down jacket.
"Bye, momma."
"Don't call me that."
"Bye, Karen."
"Better."
I sighed, turning towards the door. At least it's spring. Far from the cold Winter nights or the crisp Autumn morns.
"Goodbye, life," I whispered to myself.
28/12/12
