The Abused Girl |Old Version|

I WOKE UP with a start, as ice cold water was poured all over me. I gasped, my eyes flying wide open. I began spluttering and coughing as I scrambled off my make-shift bed on the cold wooden floor. The skimpy and worn blankets that had numerous holes were soaked in water. My small body shivered violently as the ice-cold water dripped, pitter-patter, on the floor. The hairs on my arms rose as my body desperately tried to retain the little body heat I had. A lot had changed in the last five years since my mother had passed. While I was in my last year in high school, life had been torturous. I had simply become a replacement for mother. The first three years after her death weren't bad. Father stayed out most of the time drinking, and Devin. . . Devin left for college two years ago. He didn't contact me often and while it hurt in the beginning, I had become accustomed to being alone. I was happy that he was finally moving on with his life. He was finally getting to a stage where he could be happy and I didn't want to ruin that for him. He had no idea what Father was actually like to me and in a way, I was grateful for that. He had been through enough already. I didn't want to add more stress to his plate. Maybe mother and I were a lot more alike than I thought. Like her, I slowly began to isolate myself from everyone. I cut off my friendships with everyone in school. I became known as the depressed, 'weird' girl who sat at the back of the class. Why was I doing this to myself? Why was I purposefully putting myself through more pain? I slowly glanced up and saw John looming over me and I instinctively cowered away, bowing my head in submission. It had become a habit over the past two years. It was sad and pitiful that I was terrified of my own father, but after everything he had inflicted on me, my body couldn't help but try and protect itself in any way possible. John has always been a successful man. He had his own business in town and he was a very well-respected man among many. He had built golden reputation for himself over the years. However, I doubted he would be that highly looked upon if people were aware of the kind of person he was at home. It was almost like he had two personalities: a smart, sophisticated hardworking man when at work, and in short, a monster at home. It scared me how much he was able to fool everyone he knew. His friends and co-workers sometimes came around during the holidays for dinner, and none of them had ever noticed or even suspected anything. How could some people be so blind? How many people had I met that were the same as my Father? Mother died two weeks after finding out she had cancer. She died so suddenly. While we knew her days were numbered, none of us were prepared for her to leave us so suddenly. I guess we had some hope that the doctor was wrong and she would pull through. I remember the distinct sound of the heart monitor flat-lining. I could never forget that sound. It haunted my dreams and nightmares. Her weak hand which was gripped around mine, fell limp by her side. I watched as she took her last breath and shut her eyes forever. As awful as it sounded, Mother looked more at peace in death than she did alive. Her face wasn't scrunched up in pain anymore. She just seemed. . . peaceful. Father's almost charcoal black eyes blazed with fury as he clenched his fists at his side. A small vein pulsed near his temple the more his face grew red in anger. I watched as his clenched fists began to rise slowly. I knew what was coming and my body instinctively braced itself for what was to come. "I've been calling you for the past ten f*****g minutes!" He viciously spat, his spit landing in my face. I internally cringed in disgust. I wanted to lift my hand and wipe it off, but I stayed still. My body shrunk further away from his, my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. My breathing grew laboured the longer he looked at me. Every time I opened my mouth to say something, my throat seemed to clog up, and all that came out were a few small squeaks. John breathed harshly through his nose. He almost reminded me of those cartoon characters you would see on television when they had smoke coming out of their ears, yet the only difference was this wasn't a cartoon. This was my reality. He bared yellow stained teeth at me, the horrible smell of alcohol wafting towards me. I wrinkled my nose and moved back discreetly. His stained, grey shirt was wrinkled, the first few buttons broken off, showcasing his hairy chest. "You're not going to say anything, huh?" He gritted out, breathing heavily as his chest heaved up and down. My knees trembled, threatening to give out at any second. His dark eyes narrowed on mine. The rate at which my heart was pounding overtook all my senses. All I could hear was the thudding of my heart in my ears and the pumping of my blood. It was difficult to focus and concentrate on John and what he was saying. I shook my head lightly and clenched my eyes shut knowing what would be coming. There was nothing I could say that would get me out of this. It was the only way he could get his anger and frustration out. Hitting his own daughter. And as always, he didn't disappoint. SMACK! The stinging pain and force of his slap sent me flying back and I slammed my head hard against the wall. I let out a squeak as intense pain blossomed throughout my head. I slid down and pressed myself against it. I let out a quiet whimper and lifted a shaky hand to the back of my head. My vision blurred for a second before it straightened out. I felt something wet and sticky and I looked at my hand to see it covered in dark blood. Shaky breaths left me as I stared at my hand, transfixed. "P-please." I whispered quietly. My head was pounding, making it hard to focus and my face felt like it was on fire. I blinked up at him blearily, trying to focus on him but my focus kept coming and going. John glared down at me and a cruel smirk played on his thin lips. I was sure he got pleasure out of hurting me, something I could never comprehend. How could someone enjoy inflicting this much pain on someone? "Please?" He snorted disbelievingly and shook his head, "You're pathetic. Look at you, you can't even get up." He raised his booted foot and slammed it into my stomach hard. I gasped, slouching forward and crying out. I grasped my stomach in pain. As much I tried not to, tears streamed down my face. John smirked evilly and leaned down closer to me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and harshly dragged me straight up. I let out a small whimper of pain but he ignored it. His brown eyes looked black and empty as he stared at me with disgust. "I don't expect much," He sneered, "Just clean the f*****g house and make me food, but you just can't seem to do that can you?" He rolled his eyes at me. "You're absolutely useless and a f*****g waste of space." "I didn't mean to sleep in." I croaked out pathetically, trying to escape out of his grasp but he just pulled on my hair tighter making me wince. I looked up at him as tears streamed down my face, but he didn't seem at all affected. Sometimes, I had bald patches on my head when he forcefully pulled chunks out. At times like those, I either wore a hat or I did buy a wig online until my hair grew back in that spot. I naturally had thick hair, so it was never that noticeable, but I felt better covering it up. John had drilled into my head the consequences that would occur if I told anyone. I feared John and he knew that. He knew that whatever he asked of me, I would do it. He felt powerful. He knew the amount of control he had over me. He was aware all he had to was look at me and I would bow my head in submission. It was pathetic of me, I knew that. John glared at me for a few more seconds before he carelessly tossed me to the floor like a rag doll. I crumpled to the floor in a small heap. My shoulder hit the edge of the wall and pain rocketed through my arm. I bit down on my lip hard as I tried to keep in any sounds wanting to escape. "Don't you dare ever do something like this again or you won't like the punishment." He warned before stalking out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. The thin walls shook slightly at the force he used. I let out a shaky breath and curled up weakly into a ball. I lifted a hand and massaged my aching scalp. I could feel that the back of my head was still bleeding a little but I knew it most likely wasn't anything too serious. My room grew silent but I could hear John slamming doors and other things downstairs. Each time I heard a bang my heart rate would skyrocket and my body would start to panic. I had learned certain techniques over the years to calm myself down but sometimes, my panic attacks would just get too much. There was only so much a person could handle on their own. I looked down at my trembling, blood-stained hands. What had I done to deserve this? The thought regularly crossed my mind. Everyone else I knew had loving families. Their mothers and fathers would wait patiently for them after school and ask them about their day. When they went home, they had a warm dinner waiting for them. Their parents didn't look at them in disgust. Their parents actually cared about their children. Their parents didn't abuse their children. Their parents turned up for the parent-teacher meetings. Their parents loved them. So why didn't mine? It was embarrassing as every year I had to come up with an excuse as to why my father couldn't attend. I couldn't say, Sorry Sir, he's drunk at a bar, that's why he's not here, or Sorry, my dad just hates me and doesn't care about me so he didn't turn up. Carefully, I stood up, swaying slightly. My vision blurred again for a moment and I felt a searing pain flash through my stomach. I quickly grabbed the wall for support. I clenched my eyes shut in agony. Waves of pain passed through me and I breathed deeply in and out through my nose. Why did it hurt so much? I took another deep breath and slowly opened my eyes after the pain had lessened. Once I felt like I could move, I took small steps over to my shattered mirror, thanks to John when he smashed me against it one morning, and gently lifted my top up. A large bruise was already forming on my stomach, blending in with the other ones. Barely any of my own pale skin was visible at this point. He never gave me a chance to heal before pummeling into me violently. I sighed heavily and started pulling out some of my makeup to cover the some of the light bruises on my face and arms. No one would ever guess that my own father beat me. Although, I didn't have any friends at school that would care anyways. No one wanted to be friends with a freak. It only helped John's case that I didn't speak with anyone at school. I didn't need to be coming up with excuses all the time as to why I was limping or hurt. However, people could be so oblivious sometimes. The amount of students, teachers and adults that looked me in the eyes every day and couldn't see the pain and desperation in them was angering. I was screaming internally for someone to help me. . . Why couldn't anyone hear me? ~~~ I TRUDGED SLOWLY into school, my head still pounding. Every step felt like a huge effort. I eventually stopped and leaned my head against my locker. If I didn't, I knew I would keel over and John would win. I would prove that I was strong. I shut my eyes in pain, breathing in and out slowly. I knew I was already late, so it wouldn't matter if I was a little later right? The cool metal felt amazing against my head and my headache eased slightly. I knew if anyone saw me, they would probably give me a weird look and it would only reinforce the fact that I was a freak and an outcast. Gulping, I took in a shaky breath and opened my eyes, feeling slightly better. I could do this. I headed to my first class, Chemistry. The hallways were deserted so I wrapped a hand around my stomach, trying to ease the searing pain that shot up my body with each painful step I took. As I reached the classroom, I slowly lifted a shaky hand and knocked lightly before twisting the handle and pulling the door open. As the door creaked open, immediately everyone shifted their gazes to look at me. I felt my cheeks heat up in embarrassment as Miss. Holland turned and raised an eyebrow at me. Her hand froze mid-air as she stopped scribbling on the board. "Why are you late Ms. Montez?" She asked tiredly. "Again?" Miss Holland wasn't a strict teacher and often let me off being late. She had been very kind to me all year, and I had feared that at one stage she was aware of what was happening at home. One day she kept me after class and asked me multiple questions about my home life and John. I remember panicking at the time to think of an excuse and I think in the end, I eventually said I had to get home before my dad worried. Although I remembered the look of pity in her eyes as she realized I wasn't going to be talking. As I turned my back on the one person who genuinely looked concerned for me, regret settled inside of me. The fear that I might not ever get that chance ever again haunted me for weeks. I noticed after calling me back after class, she kept her eyes on me, the following weeks. She asked how I was doing, let me off of uncompleted homework and sometimes left small chocolate sweets on my desk after lunch. While I wasn't a hundred percent sure if that was her, I couldn't think of anyone else who would leave me a chocolate sweet since I was ignored by everyone. "I slept in, I'm sorry Miss. It won't happen again." I muttered quietly and played with the ends of my brown hair. I lowered my eyes, avoiding eye contact with her but I could tell she was staring intently at me. After a silent few seconds, she let out a small sigh and waved me off. "Sit down Anastasia." I nodded my head quickly and pivoted on my heels, to turn to my desk but stopped when I noticed my classmate, Jax, was already sitting in my seat. I had only spoken to him a handful of times a few years ago. He was quite arrogant and had a quick temper, as far as I could remember. His parents were very rich, but they were actually very down-to-earth kind of people, unlike Jax. He could worm his way out of any situation, no matter how bad it was. He wasn't someone who dated a lot, which surprised me. He kind of kept to himself and only hung out with three or four people. I cleared my throat quietly. "Excuse me Jax, that's my seat," I whispered lowly, trying not to attract attention and disrupt the class. He barely acknowledged me, and quietly snapped back, "I'm sitting here now go somewhere else." I raised my eyebrows in annoyance and opened my mouth to reply but Miss. Holland cut me off. "Ms. Montez! Sit down please! There's a seat free beside Victoria over there." Gritting my teeth, I glared at Jax, cursing him in my head as I slowly headed over to my new seat. Victoria was a little strange. As far as I could remember, she hadn't ever bothered me in the long years I had been here, in fact I wasn't sure if I had ever even spoken with her. Although she could be a little self-centred and rude, she was hardworking and a morally good person. I remembered instances in the school grounds or cafeteria where she would stick up for the students like me. While no one was as unfortunate as me, the bullying wasn't completely limited to me. Victoria often intervened in the group bullying that happened at lunch times or in the hallway. She dressed simply in jeans and hoodies most of the time and I knew she was incredibly intelligent. Giving me one last side glance, she turned her attention back to the board and continued scribbling notes down in her small copybook. When Miss Holland turned back to the board after shooting me one last glance, I rested my head in my palm and shut my eyes briefly. I struggled to keep my eyes open and pay attention to her ranting. Before I knew what, I was doing, my eyes closed shut and I was drifting off into a small slumber.