I stand in the mirror making eye contact with someone I do not know. Yellowcard plays softly from the stereo across my room. A few bright red strands of hair have fallen from my ponytail in front of my pale face, and my vibrant green eyes.

I stare for so long that I've broken my face down into so many pieces that there's no way it can sum up to anything whole.

It's Monday at eight AM. Valentine left for work an hour ago, leaving strict instructions for me not to leave the house. As if I'd leave, anyways. Where would I go? I'm home schooled, and he's hardly allowed me to leave the house in the last two years. I don't even know my way around.

I know I should be doing something productive. Studying or cleaning, but I can't convince my aching body to move from this spot. I'm in pain from Valentines warning this morning. "Just to make sure you don't disobey me, and leave the house." he'd said as if I have anywhere to go.

Sebastian left sometime after I passed out. I assume he had to get home before his mother realized he was gone. He's lived next door for as long as I have been here. The first time I met him, I thought he was creepy. The way he looked at me, and always tried to be near me. I should have known what he wanted. I shouldn't have been surprised when Valentine noticed, and told Sebastian he could have me for the right price.

Fathers are supposed to protect their daughters, not sell them.

I never told Jonathan about Sebastian. I don't want him to know just how evil our father really is. I couldn't hide the abuse from him, because it started while he still lived here. I remember him yelling at Valentine to stop. He would push him away from me, but it never stopped him for long enough. As soon as Jon wasn't around, Valentine would finish what he started. Jon couldn't protect me all the time, but I can protect him. He never needs to know about Sebastian.

After a few more moments of silently hating my life, I convince myself that I need to clean the house. With sore muscles, and bruises covering my body, it takes most of the day. By the time the house is spotless, I have to start dinner.

I decide to make Steak and potatoes, hoping that if I make food he loves then I can get through the night without any new injuries.

"Clarissa, my dinner had better be ready!" Valentine slurs, as he walks through the front door.

"Y-yes, sir," I say with a shaky voice. He's drunk, so it doesn't matter what I do. He's going to hurt me. "Dinner is on the table." I tell him, trying to steady my voice.

I flinch when he walks toward me with an angry look in his face. He looks like he might have been handsome once, but he got too angry, and anger changes people in more ways than one. He doesn't ever look like anything but the devil incarnate.

I don't even have the time to brace myself, or curse him before I feel my body being slammed into the wall over and over. Pain shoots through my back, my shoulder and ribs. He shows no signs of stopping. My body hits the wall, and my heart trashes violently in my chest. I lose count of how many times. He shoves me into the wall until it doesn't hurt anymore—until everything goes black.