LILY
Happiness. I wonder what that feels like. I see people with happy smiles on their faces, what makes them so happy? It took me a while to realize that not everyone's life is as shitty as mine. A sharp pain drew me out from my river of thoughts.
'Oh'
Its just my injured hands I need to get them bandage doing the dishes with my cuts exposed is hurtful but Its something I got used to it, its not like as if it is the first time this is happening, my body is a living testimony to that.
A creek from the door was heard and I froze on spot. It's past 11, why is my dad back already? I exhaled shaky breath as my nose picked up the stench of alcohol enveloping the air threatening bile to form in my throat.
I never hated alcohol never even tasted it but my dad made me to. I stopped doing the dishes and paid close attention, it's a habit I developed if I needed to hide from him. His footsteps echoes from where it is and giving me his sense of direction and I ran from it.
'Where is that bitch!'
My body jolted at the curse and I felt my heart leave my body. This is not going to end well nor for him, for me. His footsteps are sounding heavy meaning he had a lot to drink okay that's a bonus for me. This house isn't that big by any means making it hard to hide but I chose the back of a couch hidden in a dark corner of my living room
My dad can't find me with the blinking lamp bulb making it hard to see plus the fact that's its night already I have a high chance of escaping this time. God I hope he sleeps it out
I hate being drenched in sweat but being in this situation I have no choice and shaking made things a lot worse I've gotten used to it but whenever he drinks too much I fear him I really do.
'Where's that filthy bitch!'
Damn he's close, tears threatening to fall as the thoughts of being caught rushes in.
Breathe Lily I hush myself to silence I can't cry if I do it's over; my hiding will be in vain.
Lily you are stronger than this.
But no matter how I kept telling myself that fear won, I broke down. I couldn't stop the tears it just kept pouring till I felt myself sobbing
God please stop this
In that very moment, my prayers were stopped short as I felt my hair being yanked up forcefully
'Found you'
A smile revealed his white annoying straight teeth as he threw me to the wall sending waves of pain crashing over me I haven't fully healed from last scars and he's here causing new ones, and I know he wasn't done this is just the beginning.
No matter how hard or long I scream or shout for help no one will show, no one will help.
The hits were as bad as the man doing it; a punch to the stomach, a stomp to my chest, a blow after another no time for me to rest. The smiles he gave me as he threw me around was more painful than the hits he gave slowly I felt myself slipping in and out of consciousness
"Please stop" my pleas fell on deaf ears making more tears spill, how did it all go wrong?
Till I was left a bloody pile of mess on the floor of the living room I think he decided it was enough. He lay on the dead couch staring at me with content from his seat drinking again
I don't recall when he grabbed that drink but that was the least problem I have right now. I need to find a way to my room before he feels like going for round two.
Angling myself in a comfortable way I pull myself from the ground heading-limping to my room
"Don't forget to stitch yourself up you wouldn't want to your dad to enter jail would you?"
I do I very much would, but the answer that came out was different; "No I wouldn't"
Later on, with the doors properly locked I cleaned the bruises and stitch myself up the way my dad taught me. He is a doctor a high respectable one at that. The money he earns is supposed to be enough to get us a new house entirely but it goes to his drinking addiction
For a doctor he is one of a kind
I sigh leaving the bathroom staring at a broken bed (he did that) and no fan just my handy dandy mirror that I'm surprised has not broken in the hands of my father, small scratches (caused by me) are visible on the light brownish walls, I was marking the days of my survival, it helps
The room is small and I don't know the difference between a beggar and me -Oh the roof and the deformed bed is the difference, guess I should be grateful then
I crawled on the bed in an awkward position to reduce the pain shooting from my limps before finally settling in the middle of it. My brown hair splattered all over gives a little warmth to me because it's the same as my mums the only thing I inherited from her, my beauty was from my dad which is hard to believe but Its clear as day. Tall, handsome and strong, no excessive muscles he is just fit which makes him the least suspect to be into abuse
He painted the story right
My birthday still far but it marks the day of my freedom, 18 years old I will fulfill all my unanswered birthday wishes: To be free
I am an orphan since my dad is no longer a dad but my captor and my mom died a few years back all because of me
Going through that memory lane is harsher than any other beating my father will ever dish out to me I'm sure you can guess how the story flows from there as of now I don't see him as a father or a dad to me hes just a stranger.
You should have just died!
I wonder why she's still alive
Its such a pity she's become daddy's punching bag.
Laughters echoing in my head, these damn episodes I keep on having
"Stop!" My voice coming out as a whisper as I pressed my hands firmly to my ear, go away, I'm not listening to you
Rocking myself into a ball I try to shut down the voices, it's been going on like this for years now. I hesitated asking my dad about it but I see no light in that tunnel, it's my demons to deal with on my own
I think it started when the beatings did since I was 14 I hear these voices and its eating my sanity away slowly. An hour gone, the voice becoming whispers actually put me to sleep.
Instead of falling asleep to lullabies or stories I fall asleep to a thousand curse word giving me enough reasons not to live