Hi everyone! So I got some great reviews on the first chapter and I'm happy people like it! I decided to update tonight cause I really wanna get a good start on this story! I am honestly glad people like this story so far and I promise it will continue to get better! And a quick message to What you don't know fans, I am going to update soon, either tomorrow or Friday, I promise!
Anyways I don't have much to say, im watching tangled as I write so this may take me a while.. Ha. Anyways keep up the great reviews and if you ever need anything just PM me!
Song: "New Horizons" By flyleaf
Here goes!
Chapter 2: Shattered Glass
Blood. My blood. My crimson red blood pooled beneath my hand onto the floor, oozing out of the gaping gash on my hand from the broken bottle.
I heard the quiet murmur of the television coming from the living room, and the clank of bottles as my dad gulped them down. I sighed. I was laying on the grimy tile of my kitchen. I searched my mind to remember the events that had caused me to be left bleeding and unconscious on the floor.
Ah ha! I was making dinner- spaghetti with white sauce- and my father came pounding in, still in his dirty work clothes. He got mad because he didn't want spaghetti, and well. Beat me up with a half broken beer bottle. I looked down at my stomach to see my shirt ripped off, leaving me in simply my bra and a pair of black sweatpants. The pale flat skin was covered in red, jagged circles. Marks from my father pressing the bottle into my skin.
I looked over to the glass door that lead into my backyard. The icy gray sky causing the already gloomy scene to appear even more depressing. The dead grass in the yard was covered in a thin layer of frost. I sighed, no snow yet. I always loved the snow, how pure and white it was. The coldness that electrocuted through my body when my fingers brushed against it. It kind of, strangely, reminded me of myself. Pure, but easily tainted. I always ran outside at the first sight of the flurry falling from the sky, allowing the flakes to fall upon me, dotting my skin and tangling itself in my hair. But no snow yet.
I pushed myself up off the floor, using the counter to grab onto. I shuffled my way carefully up the stairs and to my room. I filed through my drawers, pulling out a ribbed black tank top and slipping it on. I threw my hair up into a bun and headed back to the door of my room, turning to look out the window before I continued downstairs to clean up the mess my father had created.
The first thing I saw was the bright lights strung around the house across the street and the ones surrounding it. Sparkling snowmen and reindeer and Santa's dotted the yards in a festive manner. I could spot large, decorated Christmas trees through the window's, presents spilling out from beneath them.
I, personally, have never experienced a real Christmas. The most I ever got was a night without my father abusing me. He wasn't pleasant, but he didn't hurt me. That badly at least.
I should be grateful I get at least that. I mean it sucks, but I should. I always wanted a real Christmas though. To wake up to a cheery decorated house, a large green sparkling tree, crisply wrapped presents piled around it.
But that wasn't going to happen. I lived this life. And there was nothing I could do.
I sighed and headed downstairs and began to sweep up the mess.
I hummed tunes that I had found on the internet. I wasn't quite sure what people my age were interested in, but I personally had become fond of bands like AFI, Florence + the machine, Shinedown, the XX, Bright eyes, and Nirvana.
I was sweeping the floor when a knock on the door startled me, interrupting my humming of an XX song. I jumped up with a squeal, dropping the broom onto the floor. I bolted to the door, peeking through the peek hole.
A woman was standing on the porch. She was tall and skinny, age marking her face. She had brown hair slicked back into a pony tail. Her eyes were the same shade and her skin a dark tan tone. She wore black pants and a navy blue coat with black heeled shoes. After a moment she knocked again, this time harder and more impatient.
I took a deep breath, cracking open the door and peeking my face out just a tiny bit. "hello?" I quietly whispered.
"hello. You must be Clary." how the hell did this lady know my name?
I took a few deep breaths, steadying myself before speaking again. "And who are you?"
The woman snapped to life. "Oh! My name is Mirelle Wilder. I'm from Child Services, I'm just here for your ordinary routine check."
My eyes widened in shock. "U-um now isn't a good time. My dad's sick." I lied.
"Oh I won't be but a moment." Ms. Wilder assured. "I just need to come in, have a look at things, and then you will be free to go on about your night."
I took a deep breath, stepping back and away from the door quietly, leaving it cracked open, I didn't know what to do. Come on Clary think. Oh right. "Just let me get my dad and th-"
I was interrupted by the woman pushing the door open and walking inside, shutting the door behind her. She looked me up and down. Then examined the messy house with bottles laying around and shattered glass scattered on the floor. Then her eyes returned to my beaten self. "What happened."
I searched my mind for an excuse. "I fell down the stairs." I quickly rushed out, sighing after I had said it.
She nodded, obviously not believing a word I said. "Where is your father." without a word I led her to the living room where my dad was snoring on the couch, a beer bottle in his hand and various others scattered around him.
Mirelle walked over to my father, shaking him until he woke up in a confused, drunken haze. "Hello Mr. Morgenstern."
"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded harshly.
"my name is Mirelle Wilder. I'm from CPS." his eyes widened in shock.
"Oh.." he searched for the correct words to say. "We weren't expecting such a late visit, I apologize for the mess." he smiled, standing up, acting overly nice towards the lady.
"Show me around." she stated, causing him to nod. "Stay here Clary."
I sat down on the couch in response, waiting for the two of them to return. Shit this was bad. I shouldn't have let her in. I should have shut the door and got my dad, allowing him to stall while I cleaned up. I was either going to be saved or beat badly. I hoped for the first. But I was also terrified of it.
This Is all I've ever known. And if I was pulled out of this house, what would happen? No one would want such a fucked up teenage girl. I would most likely be thrown into abusive foster homes and neglectful group homes. And for some odd reason, I much preferred this. At least I was used to this.
"well.." I snapped up to see Mirelle walking in, my father trailing behind her. She was typing something on her phone. "I'm Sorry to bother you. I best be going."
And then she was gone.
"You fucking little bitch!" my father shouted, throwing me against the wall. "you're lucky I am such a peoples person!" and then he kicked me. Over and over. Until my vision started to blur and my head was light. Then there was a large banging sound. I snapped my eyes open, focusing on the door and the commotion happening near it.
"Police!" several armed men in navy uniforms piled into the room, aiming their gun's at my father.
"Hello Mr. Morgenstern." Ms. Wilder came into view, arms crossed. "You thought I wouldn't notice all of this huh?"
"You Bitch!" he shouted as an officer handcuffed him, informing him that he was being arrested for abuse of a minor and reading him his rights as they pushed him out. He shouted some other things that I couldn't hear due to the fact that he was already out the door.
A female officer and Ms. Wilder were at my side, helping me up.
"It's okay Clary," Ms Wilder comforted, wrapping a blanket around me and escorting me out the door. "You're safe now."
I don't remember much after that besides being put in the back seat of a white shiny car, laying down on the bench and feeling the tears escape me before darkness enclosed me.
I awoke on a plush blue couch, the events from the night as clear as crystal. I sat up. Rubbing the bits of crust from my eyes and looking around. I was in a small room that contained a couch, two similar chairs, a table with water on it, and a window exposing a hallway, people buzzing past.
I curled up, rocking myself back in fourth until Mirelle walked into the room, escorted by two female police officers.
They sat down in the chairs, and mirelle sat on the couch beside me and they began asking me questions about my life. And strangely I felt myself compelled to tell the, and I did. There was really no sense in rejecting everything, it would only make things worse.
I told them about the abuse, the rape, the isolation, everything. It took most likely took multiple hours. I was terrified. I didn't know what was going to happen and how the rest of my life was going to work out. I didn't know how I would get my things, or where I would go to live. The only thing I was sure of was that nothing would ever be the same again.
Once all the required questions had been asked, the officers retreated from the room leaving me alone with Mirelle, who was now in a grey skirt, a matching grey blazer and a blue and white thinly striped button up top.
We sat in an awkward silence. I was slowly taking sips of water from a class cup and Mirelle sat beside me, studying my every move. Finally she broke the silence. "Do you know how long you slept for Clary?"
I shrugged. "A few hours…?"
The woman shook her head. "Almost two days Clary. You must have been pretty tired." I nodded. "Understandable. I see this a lot. Abuse can be… exhausting."
I nodded again, contemplating asking the question that was pressing against my mind.
The silence returned. I avoided all eye contact, staring down at the almost empty class cup, my pale and sweaty hands clutching it tightly. I felt a drop of sweat drip down my pale and scarred skin as a pair of deep brown eyes bore deeply into my skull.
I snapped my head up, deciding to be the one to rupture the silence this time. "What… what's going to happen to me?"
She sighed, sitting back and crossing her legs. "Well.. Your dad will be put in Jail." I nodded, not a surprise.
"Foster home?" I almost silently questioned.
"Why would you go in a foster home?" she asked. Now I was confused.
"M-my mom's dead." I murmured, looking down at my hands.
Her brows furrowed. "Clary is that what your dad told you?" I nodded. "Clary your dad lied." then she stood up and I watched her walk over to the door and crack it open, waving to a woman sitting on a bench outside the room. The woman came in and the door shut, Mirelle standing beside it.
I studied the woman in front of me, her small mouth was gaping open, dark green eyes fixated on me. She was short, but not as short as me, she was probably about 5"4. Her hair was a dark brown red color and fell down her shoulders in tamed, smooth curls. Her skin was light like mine, but I didn't see a single freckle dotting her flawless skin. She wore light jeans, black flats, and a paint splattered red t-skirt covered with a black coat.
"Clary…" the woman spoke, gently running her fingertips along my cheekbone, causing me to cringe. She snapped her hand aware. "It's me… Your mom…"
Voila! It may be a little short and hopefully it didn't make the story move too fast, but I hope you guy's still like it!
MAKE ME SMILE AND REVIEWWW!
~karissa
