PLEASE READ WARNING-

So, I know you all have been dying to find out what happened in Ana's past, so here it is.

HOWEVER, I would like to say that this scene contains on the page violence, and abuse of a minor so if that is not something you feel you are able to read please skip ahead to the ###########, where it will change back to the present. While I will try to reference her past in future chapters I cannot guarantee that if you skip you will fully understand the rest of the story, so if at any point you are lost please feel free to reach out.

Also please be aware that if you don't read the abuse scene there is only a short paragraph at the end.

Ana's POV

I sit on the couch in silence staring at the dark screen of the television that hasn't worked in months because no one thought to pay the cable bill, the front door to the apartment flies open pulling my attention away. The hinges groan under the force as the door swings open a full one-eighty and smashes into the wall causing bits of drywall to fall off and crumble onto the ground. The man in the doorway staring at me, but I don't dare look into his eyes, even without looking I know his face will be ablaze with rage just looking at his stance, which only means one thing for me.

Pain.

Pain that would make most normal people breakdown or cry and scream but not me, I've grown accustomed to it. There isn't any point in crying out or screaming for help because it never comes, people here care more about being deported or being arrested for any one of the numerous illegal activities they partake in than to care about what happens to me. I sit there on the couch unmoving, knowing that if I try to run and hide or heaven forbid defend myself it would only make things worse for me because the agony is all I know; all I've ever known.

I place my hands in my lap and draw my gaze away knowing that if I look at him any longer even if I'm not making eye contact it will make whatever his intentions are worse. He steps into the room his heavy boots thump as he crosses the rickety floorboards, it only takes him a few paces to reach me in the small apartment. The living room, kitchen and dining room are all wrapped up in one despite the space being barely being big enough for one room let alone three. The only other rooms are a single bedroom and bathroom and a large closet that doubles as my room despite the fact that it is legally too small to be considered a bedroom. In spite of the fact, this place is a Hodgepodge of broken appliances and there are holes in every wall and parts of the floor its spotlessly clean I always make sure of it because if it wasn't it would make him angry.

My hands shake in my lap despite my efforts to keep them still, so I turn them and place the palm down onto my thighs trying to hide the tremors knowing that if he notices them will make him mad and he'll ask why I'm scared even though he knows he's the reason why. No matter how hard I try I can never control my shaking I have better luck with my tears but after a certain point it's too much and they break free as well. But I never fight back or scream I stay silent through it all waiting for it to end knowing that it will only make it worse if I cry out.

As his footsteps reach me, I tense despite myself and brace from what I know is coming. I feel the burn in my scalp before I register that I'm moving backwards and over the back of the couch by my hair, I feel the strands snapping as they are ripped from my head. My body makes a nauseating thud as my pelvis connects with the floorboards, I can already feel the bruise forming before I'm even fully on the floor, he pulls me backwards across the floor by my hair, with each inch I can feel the splinters rip into the flesh on my lower back where my shirt has lifted.

My head smashes into the floor when he suddenly releases my hair and I feel my brain rattle inside my skull with the force of the impact. Nausea hits me and the room begins to spin, my vision swims as he leans in, so close I can smell the cheap beer and whiskey on his breath mixed with the stench of weed. I wish I could say it was the first time I've smelt it on his breath but in truth, I'm not sure I remember what his breath smells like without it.

He's yelling at me telling me how stupid I am, how I'm worthless, a good for nothing whore just like my mother but they all wash over me not hitting the mark like he intended because I've heard them all, so many times. None of those make my blood run cold like his next sentence.

"I just lost thirty grand."

When he loses money, it's like he needs an outlet to vent his frustration and for him that's me, the pain is so much worse when he loses. The worst part is he's never lost this much not in one go, and that can't be a good thing.

A noise from the doorway pulls both our attention, he spins out of the way to look at the source of the noise, revealing a woman in the doorway. Her hair is a mess going in all different directions, her shirt is buttoned up wrong leaving a section bulging midway up, her lipstick is smeared down her chin, which means she's just been out screwing someone else. There's no doubt that she's just been off fucking the landlord to pay this month's rent, its literally the only reason we have been able to live here for so long. But the problem is that when he's in one of his moods, he likes to forget that fact and get pissed at the fact she sleeps with other men and with the way he is right now it can only end one way. I wouldn't mind but when he's pissed at her he doesn't just take it out on her it takes it out on me because it is obviously my fault that she fucked someone else.

He launches at her and pins her to the door where it now rests against the wall rather than in its frame, his hands clasp her neck causing her to struggle for breath. He doesn't let up even with her clawing at his hands trying to get him to let go. I try to move but my head is still spinning and I can't coordinate my movements, I don't know if I'm trying to move toward them or away but when he slams her into the floor landing a blow on her face causing blood to pour from her mouth and nose. I move towards them to try and help her even though she never does the same I can't help myself I seem to have this innate need to protect her.

I can't explain what it is, but this time feels different I can feel the dread building in my gut as he continues and lands blow after blow to her face and the blood is not pouring from her ears as well. He seems different as well, he speaks is clear as he calls her and slut and a whore over and over which any other time would mean that he's closed to passing out but this time he doesn't even seem to be showing any signs of slowing down. It's too much, she isn't fighting back like she normally would, she just lays their limp on the floor with her arms by her side instead of trying to shield her face. But what worried more than anything is that the blood from her face is slowing down, after a few more blows her movements stop completely. No more twitching, no more grunts or groans. With one last hit her head spins so that she is facing me directly, her eyes glassy and unblinking, all sign of life drained from her. She dead, my mother's dead, I know it and what's worse is he knows it too.

With my head now less foggy, I roll onto my front and try to make a break for it because this time is different, I don't think he'll stop until he kills me. I army crawl trying to get my bearings before pushing up onto my knees, but I don't get far as he grabs onto my ankle and something snap as pulls me back. The movement smashes my head into the side of the sofa making my ears ring, he kicks my ribs with the toe of his steel-capped boot leaving me winded. Kicking my hip causing pain to radiate through my entire pelvis, it all becomes too much and the tears break free which only seems to anger him further.

He lowers himself on top of me, putting all his weight on my pelvis making the pain spike, and a pained groan forces its way between my lips despite my attempts to keep quiet. A punch lands on my cheek before I even have a chance to process and my hands fly to my face before I can think better of it. That doesn't stop him all it does it make fingers burn as the bones there take the brunt of the force over my face, eventually everything goes blurry and he eases up before stepping away heading to the kitchen. I assume to get something to drink as I hear the fridge door open, but I dare not stick around to find out, despite the spinning room and pain radiating through my body I push myself off the floor and run for the door. I have to step over her body as I go, a broken sob comes works its way free, he must hear it as a beer bottle whirls past my head smashing into the wall. I hear the bottle as it whirs past my head so close, I can feel the breeze as it passes, the bottle breaks apart and what's left clunks as it rolls down the stairs.

I don't bother to look around to see if he's coming, I can hear his footsteps and they're speeding up. As I get to the top of the stairs, I'm turned enough to see him lunging for. I twist away to escape his grasp but it's too far and I lose my balance falling down the stairs. I reach for the banister to stop myself, but my fingers are too battered and weak to hold on and I roll down the stairs, everything's a blur as I tumble. I land at the bottom with a thud that causes warmth to blossom in my belly, that's strange, I flip myself over to try despite the pain radiating through my body to find out why. When I do, I notice the neck of the beer bottle he threw sticking out of my belly as blood starts to pool at the base coating my stomach. Black spots fill my vision as I lay there unable to move, his footsteps echo down the stairway as he gets close, I force my eyes to stay open but it's getting harder by the second. He hovers above me for a moment assessing me with cold eyes, for a second I wonder why but when he places his hands around my neck and starts to squeeze, I realize why. He's checking if I'm still alive, as he tries to finish the job, I lay there unable to move my body so weak it won't cooperate. And as my vision tunnels, I can't help but wonder if the last face I'll ever see is that of my father as he strangles me. As the last of my vision fades, I'm oddly thankful because at least my pain is gone.

###########

I scramble awake as the nightmare ends, but can't bring myself to move, that's always the way it the paralyzing fear that it wasn't a dream he's still there coming for me. I manage to lose the hold the fear has on my knowing that the best way to reassure myself it's not real is to see my scars, I pull at my shirt on my wrists first needing to see the faded scars, and the surgical scars on my abdomen now silver instead of that awful pink they were at first. It takes my brain a moment or two to realize that the gasp I heard wasn't a figment of my imagination, and my eyes fly to Christian sat in front of me on the bed his gaze fixed on my stomach, I pull my shirt down covering them. We just sit there for a moment him still staring at my stomach and me trying to get my racing heart to slow I try to breathe but this time it doesn't seem to be working this time. Ben jumps up onto the bed planting his top half in my lap which seems to snap Christian out of whatever trance he's been in, and his eyes connect with mine but neither of us says a word I just reach down to pet Ben so he knows that I'm still here. The adrenaline rush starts to fade, and my heart rate slows, my hand starts to shake and I can feel the tears building as if sensing it's all too much Christian scoots closer and pulls me into his arm effectively crushing Ben between but it doesn't seem to faze him. My head falls against Christian's chest and I just listen to his steady heartbeat as the tears take over, Christian doesn't seem to care that my tears are soaking his shirt he just whisper in my ear over and over that everything will be okay and that I'm safe until I start to calm down.

So, there it is, thanks as always for reading. If you get a chance, I'd love to hear what you think.

Hopefully, this chapter provided an insight into Ana's past.

FearfullyBrave.