This all started when my mom died giving birth to me seventeen years ago. My father, Charlie, blames it all on me.
Ever since I was six, he has been abusing me for no reason. So when I turned 10, he explained how I killed my mother. I cried for four hours straight, thinking I was a murderer.
One day I came home from school a little bit late due to traffic. He was standing at the door with an angered expression. (He probably heard my loud truck pull in the driveway. I could not get a good car because Charlie didn't want to pay for it, so he brought me to the car junkyard to pick one. I was surprised he even let me get a car at all.)
"Isabella." He said sternly. I hate my name, I like Bella. But there's no way in hell that I would correct my father.
"Sir." I said. I have to call him sir. He broke my arm when I called him Charlie…and he slapped me across the face when I called him Dad…
"Where the HELL have you been?" He burst. His tone watered my eyes.
"I-I was caught i-in t-traffic." I stuttered.
He walked close to me, pulling my arm, probably bruising it. He slammed the door behind him, dragging me to the kitchen.
"I TOLD YOU TO BE HOME BY 3! IT'S 3:20!" He screamed, the vein on his forehead prominent. I started sobbing. "STOP CRYING!" He slapped me in the face, which only made me cry more.
"I-I wa-as in t-traffic!" I cried. He didn't seem to believe me. He slapped me in the face again, only this time, harder. I screamed.
He let go of me. I dropped to the floor. Charlie pulled me back up with a furious expression. "STAND UP!" He yelled, showing me a butcher knife in his hand. My eyes popped.
He's gonna kill me… I thought.
Charlie slipped my shirt off, putting the knife to my chest, right above my right breast. He made a slit from breast to breast. I screamed on the top of my lungs, feeling the blood vessels in my eyes pop. Red liquid clouded my vision, and I fell unconscious.