A/N: This chapter is long sorry about that but couldn't really shorten it. Also there is a violence and trigger warning. So if you don't like that then maybe skip through it. Not many are reading or commenting so I don't really know if anyone likes this story but I hope someone does. Enjoy!

Your POV

You looked over at your mother's now bowed figure. You gripped your chest tightly as the pain and anxiety start to become too much to handle. Your step father grabbed your chin to move your face to his. "Get the cane, girl." He said with venom in his voice. His face is stoned and emotionless. You try with all your might to bring reasoning to the situation.

"Father please! Me choose me! Punish me!" You let your pleas blend together in an endless mantra but he only silenced you by covering your trembling tear stained lips with his large hand.

"You know I am not one to be moved girl. Best do as I say or cause more trouble to your beloved mother." You shook your head at his words. Your mind was still trying to sort out all that was happening when suddenly you felt a small hand grip your shoulder.

" Do as he says Y/N." Your mother said forcing a small smile on her face. You could see the tears she was trying to hide from you. Your want to rebel broke in that moment. You slowly lifted yourself off the floor and slowly walked towards the hidden area in one of the book selves. The one English book among the many crime and punishment. Your younger self once found humor in the irony of such a title being used as the trigger for such a thing to be brought out of hiding.

You reach up to pull the binding of the book towards you. You jumped back slightly as the set of books moved back and the horrid cane moved up from its hiding place. This thing was the image of your childhood nightmares. Your stomach flipped at the sight of it. You reluctantly reached your hand forward to grab the leather covered handle. Your skin started to prickle at the feel of it. As you pulled it off its display stand you could swear the rattan was shining in the rooms light.

With the object in hand you returned to your step father's side. You bowed before him and held the cane out to him displayed on the flats of your palms. "Just as I have rules for you I also have rules for your mother. The punishment is ten. Count or I start all over." He said to you and your mother as he retrieved the cane from you. You allowed your eyes to land on your mother as her face scrunched up in pain from the first blow. Your mind suddenly drifts you away from your current self.

14 years ago...

You were 6 years old. The smell of the hospital burned your small nose. You sat in the plastic chair beside your crying mother. "Father is no longer with us sweetie." You tried to wrap your head around her cryptic words.

Father had promised to make it to your dance recital. He was surely going to come. You were excited to show him how much you had improved since your last performance. He would surely be there. He had promised after all. Before you could even go out to dance your second dance number your mother came and took you away.

"Mommy why did we have to leave?" You asked her. All she did in response was pull you on to her lap in the back of the cab you two were riding in and held your tightly. You could feel her tears fall upon your head. At the hospital the doctor had told your mother nothing more than your father was badly hurt.

After some time of sitting in the hall your mother finally grabbed your small hand in hers and led you into a room. Your eyes searched the room that was nothing but white walls and floors. Your eyes landed on a bed up against the wall. Father was laying there silently. He made no move towards you. As you got closer you see his face was all cut and bruising. You quickly removed your hand from your mother's grip and ran towards him as you always did. You smile widely as you grew closer.

"Father you missed my dance." You said in mock anger. As you moved to place your small hand on top of his confusion struck you. Father didn't move or even acknowledge your presence. Your hand landed on his and you shivered at the coldness of it. You turned your confused face to your mother who was frozen in her place with one hand firmly covering her mouth and the other gripping her shirt tightly.

"Mother, why is Daddy mad at me?" You asked her as tears threatened to leave your eyes. She finally unfroze and quickly moved to kneel in front of you.

"No baby, no. Daddy isn't mad at you." She said while she pulled you into a comforting embrace.

"But why will he not look at me?" You said through your small tears. She hugged you tighter before moving your head back to move the tear soaked hair from your face.

"Daddy doesn't look at you sweetie because he can't anymore. Daddy has moved on to his next life. Do you understand?" She said searching your confused features. Sudden realization hit you. Next life, death, and life were all things your father had explained to you. Your tears came harder as you put the puzzle together in your young mind. Your chest was now hurting to much to even breath correctly.

"But he promised to watch me dance!" You screamed through ragged breaths. The screams coming from you sounded so far away that you couldn't believe they were even yours. You continued to scream for your father and reach out to him as your mother lifted you in her arms and fled from the room.

Present...

"10!" Your mother screamed bringing you back to yourself. You could see the silent tears fall to the carpet below her as her face distorted with pain from the last of the torturous hits. Finally she collapsed to the ground and allowed the sobs she was holding to finally escape. Your eyes followed your step father as he moved to put the cane back in its hiding place.

"Take her to bathe and apply the first aid." He ordered you as he moved to sit at his desk once more. Before you could allow yourself a breath you bowed your head to him once more and quickly moved to help your weakened mother. She didn't have any strength left so you allowed her to place all her weight on you. Your mother had always been a small person so it didn't bother you. You slowly helped her out of the office trying to cause the bare minimum of pain possible. The stairs were the worse challenge but once you finally made it to the bathroom you sat your mother on the floor and helped her lean against the wall. You tried to remember another time you had ever seen your mother in such a frail state. Even through the death of your father she was always strong.

After making sure she was in a stable position you went to run the bath. You knew from experience that a cold bath would be the best for her but with it being fall and unusually cold for this time of year you thought a hot one would be best. You turned the hot water on as hot as it would go, maybe about 97 degrees if you had to guess, and then added some Epsom salt hoping the mixture would help take most of the pain away.

While the tub filled you slowly help your mother undress. The bruises were already starting to form on her back. You gently wrapped your arms around her sore body and helped her lower herself in the water. You couldn't stop the guilt from rising inside of you as you heard her hiss from the bath mixture touching her bruising skin. You had experienced her position enough to know the amount of pain she was in.

"This is all my fault." You said hanging your head low. You were trying to hold back the tears. Your mother didn't give you a reply instead she lifted her weak hand to cup your face as she shook her head. You were shocked to see that even though she was the one in pain she was trying to comfort you. This only made you feel even more guilt but you allowed your mother to comfort you all the same. You leaned your head further into her palm. You wanted to be comforted at least for a moment. You couldn't remember the last time you allowed it to happen. You hated people touching you in such a manner. When did such a feeling happen to you? Suddenly you opened your eyes and quickly moved your head.

As you left your mother to soak you went to set up the first aid. You grabbed it out of the chest at the foot of your mother's bed and set out all the items you would need. Upon opening the tin of pain reliever you noticed it was almost gone. Certainly not enough to do the job you needed it for. You walked back to the chest and moved everything to reach a small wooden box that laid in the bottom. It usually held backup supplies for the first aid kit.

As soon as you opened it you found a picture staring back at you. It was yellowish from age and crumpled along the edges. You picked it up to get a better look at it. You spotted a younger version of yourself, maybe 2 or 3 years old, staring back at you. You were jealous of her. She looked so happy it made you sick. Her smile beamed proud and brightly. You couldn't remember the last time you were that happy. You were perched on top of a man's shoulders that was staring at the camera with an equally big grin on his face.

You ran your fingers across the picture "Father." You stated in a weepy voice. You couldn't remember the last time you seen a picture of his face. The face that you could no longer bring to memory. Did your father truly have dimples? The only face you could recall easily was the one matching the last moments you seen him in person.

You wiped your tears and grabbed the tin you were looking for in the first place before gently placing the picture back on top and replacing the box in the bottom of the chest once again. After checking everything a second time you went to get your mother. You were so lost in your own thoughts that the next moments went by in a blur for you. Your mother had insisted on getting up to make lunch but you had finally convinced her that you would be fine doing it for her. The only thing needed was to stop by the store and to come right back home. To be honest you just really wanted the fresh air the walk to the store would give you. Your head was hurting horribly from the past couple hours. You left your mother to rest as you went downstairs to ask permission to leave and back to your room to get on warmer clothes for the chilly fall day outside.

Bing Bing...as you entered your room you heard your phone buzz telling you you had a new message. You walked over to where you had thrown it on the bed and unlocked the screen.

Unknown
9:50am: What would you say if I said I was a friend?

You stared unbelieving at the message. You were annoyed of the arrogance of this person. Before you could calm down you quickly typed a response and dropped your phone to change and leave.

His POV

After practice I went into the showers to clean up. I hate sweating. I washed up and put on a change of clothes. Since we had a day off the next day, being Sunday after all, I decided to go visit my parents for the rest of the afternoon. Of course as soon as mother saw me she sent me away to run some errands.

I didn't mind it. I missed walking the streets of my old neighborhood. I missed the air of where I was born. Even though my mother had always told me I was born under a bridge. I knew such a thing to be untrue, even though as a child I believed her. My parents have been nothing but mad at me since I threw away my schooling to pursue my dream of rapping. They have little faith in such a thing being of profit to me.

As I walked down the street my phone vibrated in my pocket. To be honest my heart pounded hard against my chest upon seeing it was a text from her. Could this be the moment I had waited so long for? Was the heavens really this wonderful to me? I unlocked my screen but my heart sunk as soon as I read the message.

Y/N
10:45am: Who's friend. I only have one and I am positive you are not her. If you feel the need to play games play them with someone else.

I've made her upset. I knew such a message would carry a consequence but I didn't know I would be living my nightmare