Chances

Chapter 1 My Younger Life

I was only a little girl. My long, wavy black hair and ocean blue eyes. A smile that my mother told me would always light up the world. That is until she died after giving birth to my younger brother Derek. He was the most innocent little baby, then as he grew older he became a drunk, like my father. My father was never there for us, he made me take care of Derek all the time. We had a babysitter when my dad was at work. One night he came home really drunk, throwing his stuff on the coach. He called for me "Skylar!" He shouted so loud it startled me from my room upstairs. "Yes daddy?" I say quietly because Derek is sound asleep.

I'm only 6 at the time, so Derek is about 3 1/2 old. "Can you fetch me a beer from the fridge?"
I ever so sweetly tell him "Daddy, I don't think you should have another one." Rising his right hand at me threatening "Get me another beer before I slap that smile off your face!" And just like that is when everything started.

~•~

I will never be the same person ever again. The scars I have from my father when he's drunk, the hurt inside when I tell people and they ignore it, the heartbreaks because no one wants to date a beautiful but abused girl. It's not like he wanted to abuse me, it was just the fact he would get uncontrollably drunk, and when he was drunk he would always be angry. He physically started to abuse me when I about 8. My brother didn't do anything about it, except help. He didn't really know it was bad to do that stuff because no one told him otherwise. He thought it was "helping dad out", but he didn't seem to care that it hurt me and what I would have to go through. Though he was younger and couldn't do much to hurt me, he still would listen to why my sad told him to do to me, I couldn't do anything because my dad would say if I fought back or something in that line, he would handle me himself.

Some nights were worse than others. My father would smack me to the ground and kick and kick until he thought he had enough. He did it for no reason what so ever. My father just felt the need to let out his anger on somebody, but that somebody was always me. I tried to tell my friends, teachers, and even strangers but no one believed me. I had no prof, no scars, bruises, scratches, anything. I was so hurt when non of my friends talked to me. Their parents thought their kids shouldn't me around a crazy lair who wants all the attention for herself. ,But now look at me, a 17 year old girl who has her whole life in front of her.

I will say it's been tough. I have a decent amount of friends, an adorable boyfriend, and my writing career ahead of me. You could say my life is, well.....perfect. My dad doesn't abuse me much anymore, every-now-and-then he'll get a little smack in there, but never anything more. Is it because I've gotten older and he doesn't want me to tell anyone? Or is it because he finally realized you shouldn't do that to your child?