Prologue

Matt stared at his dad, wondering what he would do to him next. Ever since he lost his job, his dad had been drinking heavily. Matt tried to protect his mom and sister, but he couldn't be everywhere at once. He tried to bring home enough money to pay for the immediate needs of the family, but there weren't a lot of jobs a ten year old could do that would be worth enough money. Not that his family saw any of it in a good way. All of Matt's money went to his father and his drinking.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little boy trying to be all grown up?" Matt hated the sound of his father's voice. The way it was oily and made him want to shudder. It seemed to even sound like he had been drinking, which, of course, he had been.

"N-no, Daddy. I was just coming back from my paper route. Jimmy has one and said that he loved it. I wanted to see if it was as fun as he said it was," Matt lied through his teeth. However, lucky for him, his dad was drunk as a skunk and would probably believe him if he said he was purple with yellow polka dots.

"Well, boy? Is it? As fun as he said?" Matt made no move to answer and instead hung his head. Matt knew the punishment for "back-talking" as his father put it, or "holding a conversation" as the rest of the human population put it. When Matt didn't answer, his dad threw the bottle of beer he was holding and managed to hit Matt in the face. The glass cut his skin and the alcohol burned in his cuts. He could only hope that it wouldn't scar too much.

Matt's dad then stalked closer to Matt, invading his space. Matt knew what this meant. He was about to get the beating of his young life.

Matt didn't even have time to duck out of the way of his father's fist before it struck him in the temple. Pain flared and Matt fell to the floor.

"You think you're so much better than me? Huh? Is that what you think, you worthless piece of shit? I'll teach you to think you are better than your elders!" Each sentence was punctuated with the pain of another fist connecting with his head or a foot to the stomach. Matt was, for the first time in his life, scared that his father would go too far and he wouldn't be able to heal from this. All Matt wanted to do when he grew up was be a firefighter. But at the rate things were going, he wouldn't even be able to see his next birthday.

25 years later...

"Bitch, get your lazy ass over here! NOW!" Elisabeth shuddered as she heard her father calling for her. Why can't I just have a normal life? She thought as she trudged out of her bedroom, her sanctuary, towards the living room where her father was waiting impatiently for her.

"Yes, Father? How can I help you?" Elisabeth tried her hardest to keep the sarcasm out of her voice and prayed that her father didn't hear it. Life was already bad enough without the extra beatings that "insolence" would bring. She still hadn't recovered from the last one, she could still feel his hands all over her and could feel his weight pressing down on her, breaking bones and tearing her soul to pieces.

"What have I told you about having dinner ready for me when I came home? Hm? I work my ass off every day in order to put food in our pantry and you repay me by not cooking it? Your mother would be ashamed," he said. That got Elisabeth's blood boiling. How dare he talk about her mother like that? The one person in the world who listened to her. The one he killed. Because of him, Elisabeth was stuck here for another twelve years. She couldn't wait to leave this Hell. The neighbors all knew what was going on and tried to help, only they couldn't do much.

Whenever Elisabeth's father tried to sell her to customers, the people around them would pay to have Elisabeth for a night, or a weekend. That was the only time she could reliably get food. She could relax and not worry about getting beaten for sitting. Not that she was ever completely comfortable, of course. Elisabeth still wouldn't let anyone near her, but it was still nice to be able to sit down on a couch.

*****Time Skip*****

Elisabeth was cooking dinner for her father when he unexpectedly came through the front door, staggering around. She could tell that he had hit the hard stuff and wasn't about to stop just because he was home. That simply meant that he expected Elisabeth to wait on his every need, before he said it. The nights he got this hammered were the nights that were usually very painful for Elisabeth.

"Come give your father some sugar, sugar," he slurred. Knowing the consequences for disobeying, Elisabeth slowly walked over to where her father slouched, not even making it to the couch. Her father grabbed her wrists and yanked. Elisabeth was pulled off balance and fell right into her father's lap. She struggled to get away, but even drunk, he was more than a match for a six year old girl. She gasped as he grabbed her butt and wouldn't let go.

"Father, I need to go check on your dinner. It's in the oven. You don't want it to burn, do you?" Elisabeth asked, hoping that he would let her go.

"Bitch, when I want you to go, I will let you go. Fine. If you're so worried about my meal, let's just go see how it's doing," he pulled Elisabeth along and shoved her face into the oven door. "Well? Is it done enough? Not burnt, is it? Huh?" He shoved her face into the oven door even more and wouldn't let up for minutes.

The pain was excruciating. Elisabeth felt like her face was on fire, which it kinda was. She couldn't help the screams of agony that tore from her throat as her father refused to let up on the pressure. Elisabeth was sure something was going to break before he let her up.

It was then that Elisabeth decided to stop talking. He wouldn't get any more pleasure out of her screams.