It's Not The First Time
  • Reads 12,054
  • Votes 288
  • Parts 10
  • Time 1h 27m
  • Reads 12,054
  • Votes 288
  • Parts 10
  • Time 1h 27m
Ongoing, First published May 22, 2012
He threw me against the wall, and I heard my rib crack. 
*Thump* 
I slid down it, and hot tears burned my cheeks. 
*Sob*
The front door opened and then closed, Dad walking out to drink away the pain in his knuckles. 
*Slam*
I'm all alone. 
It's not the first time it happened, and I knew what to do next. The crawl to my bedroom killed me, but I'm glad I didn't pass out from the pain, like I usually do. I have homework due in tomorrow. 
The door to the bathroom is open, thankfully, and I yanked myself up and held onto the sink for support. I know I shouldn't do this, but I always did after a good hour long beating. 
The shine from the knife in my hands put me into a trance, and I watched with a ghost of a smile on my bruised face as I brought it up near my wrist.

 Aurora has been plagued with a murder dear to her heart, and she suffers the consequences almost daily. Her life is abused away and her hopes for tomorrow are if she can cover that bruise on her face, not would she pass that exam? High school senior year brings good luck but bad too, and she gets caught up in a love-mess. Her best friend, the one she can trust with ALL of her secrets becomes her boyfriend. But Aurora's art teacher, Mr. Angelo, picks up on more than her school friends do. Is it a bad thing or good?
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The Text

53 parts Complete

"You are a worthless piece of trash! We should've gotten rid of you when we had the chance!" My abusive dad shouted, slapping me with all of his might. My name is Chloe Adams. Both of my parents have abused me my entire life. I'm covered in bruises, cuts, and burns from head to toe, but I've learned how to cover them up. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever escape this hell hole. "Yeah you should've." I agreed, whispering under my breath. "What was that!?" He yelled even louder than before. "N-Nothing." I stuttered, afraid of his reaction. I don't want to be pushed down the stairs again. The last time that happened, I broke my wrist. They didn't even take me to the hospital. I had to bandage it myself. "That's what I thought! Go fetch me a beer!" He ordered. There comes a moment when you don't want to stop. When you don't want to get better. You just don't care anymore. Read to find out how one small yet huge text can change Chloe's outlook on this magical journey we call life.