"You stupid idiot

"You stupid idiot!" her father's hand came crashing down on the side of her face. This was the constant routine every Friday night, the only night when her mom would leave for work and her father would have the chance to do whatever he wanted with his daughter, the only night when he went out, got drunk, and then would cause the massive spread of bruises across her body.

She suddenly felt his hand make contact once again. The only thing heard throughout the house was the 'snacking' sound of his hand beating down on her flesh and muscle. This constant routine would repeat constantly, never ceasing and making her father unstoppable. That is, till one boy came into the picture.

The Next Morning

Zac ran up to Emily when he saw her slowly walking down the sidewalk ahead of him. "Emily! Wait up!" As soon as he saw those beautiful blue eyes looking back at him, he knew immediately that something was horribly wrong. "Em, did he hurt you again?"

Emily knew she couldn't lie to Zac. He knew her all too well. Zac was her boyfriend. But if her father knew she was with Zac, he'd most likely murder the teenaged-love. And she couldn't—wouldn't-- let that happen. She continued walking, not slowing down at all. "It's nothing, Zac. Stop worrying, ok?"

"It isn't 'just nothing,' Em. I know what he does to you." Zac was always like this, always trying to help her with her problems, especially those with her father. He just didn't understand. He was the best boyfriend in the world, but she simply felt worthless compared to him.

The Locker Room

Emily looked herself over in the mirror. Her appearance was normal: bruises all over her body, on every limb, and sore with exhaustion from that infamous, beating hand.

It was Monday afternoon and the locker room seemed eerie as she got dressed after her cheerleading workout, which she had to do in full tracksuit instead of the usual short-shorts and sports bras like the other girls. Faint droplets of water were found on her skin from her shower in the privacy of the vacant room. The cool air flowing around her sent chills down her spine as she towel-dried her brown hair and slid on her clothing, low-rise jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with green converses.

As she walked out of the gym and into the hallway, Emily could feel one single pair of eyes locked completely on her figure, but was unable to locate where these eyes were located, exactly. She continued walking, now at a fast pace, up the hallway, trying to escape the secretive glance.

The sun streamed through the window and down onto her skin as she opened the rear door of the building. Then, suddenly, a deep voice called her from the alley a few feet away. "Emily," was all the mysterious male voice said to her.

She knew it was one of her father's friends. Emily slowly walked, the scuffing of her sneakers echoing through the silence of the street, her breathing slightly heavy. "What do you want?" she asked him, annoyance coming clearly through her voice.

"I want you."