Life at home was terrible.

It had always been that way, but it gradually got worse. I have friends, and I love them. They were the only thing that kept me going back then.

I guess you could say they kept me alive.

My dad had always been abusive to me. When I was five, me and my brother used to get regular beatings- but they weren't that bad, now that I look back. It was a bruise here, a sore spot there. My brother was ten, so he understood more of what we were going through, but I didn't know that much. I just thought I'd been bad.

But it increased, more and more, until the point that I finally realized that it wasn't my fault- it was my dad's.

And then came the awful day where my brother left home for college.

We'd never gotten on very well, but somehow we were raised together- if you can call it that- by that man. The man that sold our clothes for drink- what kind of father did that? My brother, Jordan, and I raised ourselves- I learned to cook while he learned how to control the bills. The only way that my brother was going to college was because he got offered a scholarship- all paid for.

Jordan left when I was twelve years old- and I remember the day as if it were yesterday. The sun was shining, the packed-up rent care was glinting- quite a contrast to the horrid scene that had etched it's memory in my mind.

He had given me a kiss on the forehead- the first time he'd shown me basically any affection, and spoke to me in a soothing tone.

"Just call, Kayla. If he does something- something worse than he's ever done before, you call me. As soon as I'm twenty-one, I swear I'll get you out of there- you can come and live with me!"

Jordan had sounded so sincere- no matter how much I annoyed him, he wanted me out of that hell-hole so I could live a normal, teenage life. Dad beat me worse than he beat Jordan, I have no idea why, it's just always been like that.

I had counted the days- every single one. I couldn't help but think of each day in stages, and as each stage passed, I became more panicked. Lessons at school, then lunch- in which I would phone Jordan each day. Then I would think- it's okay, there's still more lessons before I have to go home.

And then the final bell would come - and my good-mood act would be completely wiped. I no longer could stay away from my dad using school. The beatings that I had received the day before were faint, he only hit me once. But today, I have a feeling that it'll be worse, due to the amount of drink that he bought last night.

But then there's the boy that I have a crush on. Brady. I've had a crush on him since...well, forever. You might be surprised to learn that. You probably thought that abused teenagers were incapable of crushing on someone- but you're wrong.

I keep school as just that- school. It's not home, and I can finally be myself there. I wouldn't go as far to say that I enjoyed school- after all, who does? But it provides an escape from home life. I can show who I really am, which is basically a normal teenage girl. In school, I'm no different from anyone else.

I know it's really weird, but Brady has been my crush for a long time now. You're meant to get over crushes rather easily, but this one just won't fade. It refuses to. I would be happy in my awkward crush, dreaming about him kissing me like any other teenage girl would, if it weren't for two reasons. One, my dad is violent and I can't seem to dream about anything anything except fists and slaps, and Two: Brady only shags sluts. The whores that look at me like a piece of filth. Trust me, I know that look- it's the way my dad has looked at me my whole life.

And Brady smirks at the sluts that hover around him like bees- and takes them off to the boys bathroom to screw. Sorry for the use of language- but I can't exactly say 'making love' can I? Boys bathroom- that's not an exaggeration, they always do it in the boys bathroom at lunchtime. They actually get Brady in the boys bathroom, I've seen them going in there- Brady's mates cheering him on as he stepped through the door, smiling away cockily.

It's heartbreaking to watch.

But even if I have the chance, I wouldn't sleep with Brady. I respect myself too much to become the next meaningless sex shag in a long line. My best friend, Chloe, keeps telling me that he's not worth the trouble, but she doesn't understand. Somehow I can't seem to get over him- even if he does sleep with all those sluts. You can't just stop a crush on someone! Only love can really break something like that, and I don't quite know if I'm in love with Brady, but I'm certainly not in love with anyone else.

I'm okay looking- I admit it. I don't think I'm at all gorgeous, but I don't think I'm hideous, if you know what I mean? I don't get up in the morning and go over all my problem spots, I just get up and get on with things. Long blonde hair, big violet coloured eyes, high cheekbones and slightly tanned skin. My body ain't bad either, and sometimes that prompts envious glares from The Sluts that I don't even ask for.

So that's my life right now. But I don't complain about it- it's just life.

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