Her Savior

***Warning*** Mature Content! This story includes violence, abuse, and mature language. Read at your own risk! *Harper’s POV* “You stupid b***h! Why can’t you cook a decent meal without burning the food!?” He punched me in the face, knocking me to the floor. “Daddy. . . P-please. . . I’m s-sorry!” I said as I grabbed my face. “What did you just say?” “S-sir,” I corrected myself as he grabbed me by my hair, pulling me up to my feet. I yelped, eyes wide, as I made my way to a standing position, holding my hair. I really messed up. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me that!?” He shouted as he began to remove his belt from his waist. I cowered back until I backed into the L-shaped counter. “I’m s-sorry sir, it won’t happen again! P-p-please don’t hurt me!” I pleaded. I was stuck against the counter with nowhere to escape. Ignoring my request, he grabbed me forcefully by the arm, turning me around and pushing me down to my knees, with my back facing him. “Take your shirt off and put your hands up on the counter,” he demanded coldly. I quickly took my shirt off, threw it on the floor beside me, and reached my hands up until I felt the cold laminate countertop above me. I started sobbing as I prepared for the first blow. “You will get five lashes for burning the food and five lashes for not remembering my title.” He said, unfazed by my crying. “Yes s-sir,” I responded through sobs. I didn’t fight it because I knew I'd only get it worse if I did. I bowed my head and gave in to the punishment. “If you even think of moving your hands, you will get it even worse. Do you hear me!?” He yelled. “Yes sir,” I almost whispered, feeling defeated. I kept my head down, ready for the first blow, as I tried to remember when my dad used to care about me—back when mom was here, and we were all happy together. Now our family is broken and it’s all my fault. Ever since my mom died, my dad completely changed. He goes to the bars constantly and is always coming home drunk, smelling of cheap liquor. I felt the first sting of the metal buckle scrape down my back, letting out a blood-curdling scream, but I didn’t dare move my hands. Before I could completely recover from the first blow, the second one hit and my whole body started to shake from the pain. I tried to breathe through it as my tears hit the floor. “Maybe next time you will learn not to burn my food,” he said as he delivered the third blow. I made lasagna for dinner, with a nice dark crust. It wasn’t burned, but I don’t dare argue with him. He finds the smallest thing wrong with anything I do just so he can punish me. I’ve learned that if I argue with him, it only makes my punishment worse for me. The fourth blow comes, and my body shakes from the pain. I grip the counter even harder, trying to steady myself as I feel the fifth strike tear through my skin. I silently count the strikes in my head as they keep coming, praying for some reprieve. I finally felt the tenth and final blow to my back and instantly tried to relax my body to no avail. “Get up!” He ordered. I pulled myself up, using the counter for support, and then turned around towards him, covering my chest with my hands. He picked my shirt up off of the ground and threw it at me. “Clean this up,” he pointed to the blood on the ground, “and make me a decent meal that isn’t burnt!” “Yes s-sir,” I nodded profusely, moving to grab rags and cleaning supplies as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and exited the room. I quickly put my shirt back on before making a mental note to wash it later. I can feel the blood from my wounds dampening the back of my shirt. I got on my hands and knees to scrub the floor, wincing at even the slightest movement in my back. Once I finish, I put the cleaning supplies away and start working on dinner. . .again. This time, I made him something simple that he doesn’t normally complain about—spaghetti and garlic bread. As I’m finishing cooking the noodles, I heard the front door open and saw Tyler walking into the kitchen. “Well. . well. .well. . .if it isn’t my favorite sister,” he said to me sarcastically. I keep my head down and keep preparing dinner without saying a word. It’s safer this way. “I saw Talia today,” he said with a cheap grin. Talia used to be my best friend, until she started dating my brother. He told her about the accident and how everything was my fault and our relationship has pretty much been nonexistent since then. She now hangs out with Tyler and all his friends in the ‘popular’ group and ignores me, just like everyone else. Tyler likes to throw it in my face, knowing she was the only one I had on my side. Now, I have no one. I never told Talia about my mom, not the whole story anyway. Maybe I should have told her, so she could hear it straight from me and see the truth for what it is...but every time someone finds out, they seem to turn against me. Is it wrong to want one person by my side who will be there for me no matter what? On the other hand, why would they? It was my fault. I’m the reason my mom is dead. . .and I relive it in my mind every day. Sometimes the guilt completely consumes me and I have no strength for anything else. It’s hard to blame people for judging me based on one tragic event, but I thought maybe the people closest to me would stand by me, but I was wrong. “She told me to tell you hi,” he said, laughing, taking me out of my thoughts. “Yeah, I’m sure she does,” I said sarcastically as I began plating the food. He seemed satisfied with himself as he passed me and went into the dining room. Dad stormed into the room and grabbed me rough by the arm. “What is taking so damn long?” “I’m sorry s-sir. . . I’m j-just serving it now.” “Well, hurry up then! We are starving!” He let go of my arm and stormed off into the dining room. “Yes sir.” I grabbed the plates of food and hurried to the dining room table. I set one in front of my brother and one in front of my dad. I paused to see if dad would tell me I could stay and eat with them. The spaghetti looked absolutely delicious, but I would honestly take anything at this point. “Grab Tyler a beer, will you?” “Yes sir,” I said as I rushed to the fridge to grab a Bud Light and put it in front of Tyler. Dad let Tyler drink and pretty much do whatever he wanted. He was the golden boy, the star of the football team, on track for an athletic scholarship, and one of the most popular kids in school. Everyone wanted to be his friend. Tyler could do no wrong in my father’s eyes...unlike me. “Thanks for the beer, dad” Tyler said as he took a swig. “No problem, son,” he said as they began eating. It hurt to hear him call him that since he refuses to acknowledge me as his daughter anymore. They proceed to eat and drink, completely ignoring my existence. After a few minutes, dad noticed my presence. “Leave us,” he said to me as he took his first bite. My hopes of eating dinner were deflated... “Yes sir,” I bowed my head in sadness. I quickly cleaned up the mess in the kitchen before exiting towards the attic, knowing I wasn't getting any food tonight. I could feel my stomach gurgling, begging for food. I just hoped I had some crackers left upstairs that would tide me over until school tomorrow. School was really the only place I was guaranteed food and I couldn’t wait. I got up to the attic and went into the bathroom. It was the one nice thing about being up here — I have my own bathroom. It’s something my mom had my dad add when they fixed this space. It used to be extra work space for my mom, and now it's mine since dad doesn't like to come up here. I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed how swollen and red my eyes were from crying, my face a pale white, my long red hair sticking to my wet face, and my grossly underweight figure creating a tiny reflection before me. I took my shirt off and turned around to see the open wounds displayed down my back. I let more tears fall, just thinking about how painful it will be to clean the wounds. I took a deep breath, stripped down to my bear skin and took a luke-warm shower. I bit my lip, holding in my screams as the water hit my open wounds. I gripped the walls of the shower and let the tears fall as the pain overwhelmed me. Getting out of the shower, I treated my back and wrapped it in gauze, so it would be easier to move and more comfortable to wear clothes. I put my pajamas on and found some crackers underneath my mattress, positioned on the floor. I ate enough to prevent my stomach from making noise. I put them back under my mattress, and lay on my stomach, waiting for sleep to consume me.