CHAPTER ONE
I was almost to the door. Just a few more steps stood between me and freedom. I glanced over my shoulder in nervous excitement and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my foster father of three years was still off his face, dozing on the lounge. I would make it! I reached out a shaking hand and clutched the big brass handle, swinging the old wooden door open. That same door had kept me prisoner in that grubby old house for three years and to finally beat it felt like world domination. It was the first time that door had ever opened freely to me; my foster mother must have slipped up when deadlocking it.
I let out a stifled cry as I placed my first bare foot out of the house in three long years. The green grass was cool and soft under my feet and the dampness soothed me. I reached into my bag quickly and pulled out a pair of old thongs that were so worn that the sole was almost as thin as paper. Dropping them to the ground, I slipped them on.
Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough. A hacking cough from behind me filled me with dread. He was awake. That monster who had kept me locked in that house for three years was awake and he wasn't going to let me leave, at least not without a fight.
"Where do ya reckon you're going missy?" came his slurred voice from behind me.
I stiffened as I felt him move towards me. I couldn't turn around to face him, I was too much of a coward. A shiver ran down my spine as images of past arguments popped into my mind... I had to turn around; it was the only way to survive his cruelty.
I chanced a quick change in direction, hoping that he wasn't already advancing upon me. He wasn't. He was leaning against the veranda post, watching me with that lob-sided grin, his yellow, broken teeth making me want to gag. I fought down my revulsion and the increasing urge to vomit. I had to remain strong, or he would kill me for sure.
"Leaving." I told him plainly, thanking God that my voice didn't show the panic I felt.
He let out a short, evil laugh and wiped his grubby face on the beer Singlet he was wearing, the same Singlet he had been wearing for the last month. He really was revolting and I couldn't believe I had survived so long in his house of hell.
"Leavin' are ya?" Where do ya reckon you're goin' to? You got no one. Only me and your mother!" he yelled back at me in amusement, leaving the veranda and coming closer.
I stepped back out of instinct. The little voice in my head was yelling 'run, run!" but I couldn't move. I could only managed a few stumbling steps back, tripping over my own feet. He only laughed harder at my blundering, breaking off from his hacking noise when he was over come with yet another coughing fit.
"You are not my parents!" I yelled back with as much calmness as I could master.
I was suddenly over come with a feeling of power. How dare this man stand before me, after keeping me a prisoner for three years in that house, and tell me what to do, tell me I had no where to go. I did have some place to go, but hell would freeze over before I told him where it was.
"Me and Betty been as good as parents! We took ya in when no one else would. Not even your parents wanted ya!" he spluttered in anger.
"My parents are dead! You only took me in to do your bidding. I was your slave!" I cried as I chanced another step back.
"We gave ya a better home than most would have. We gave ya the food off our table and the clothes off our backs and what thanks do Betty and me get? We ask ya to do a few chores here and there and ya try running!" his face was growing red with the heat of the sun and the alcohol in his blood, I could see a vein pulsing dangerously in his neck.
"A few chores? I did everything! Anyone could have given me a better home than you and Betty have!" I yelled.
I couldn't stop myself. I knew I was making him angrier with each insulting remark I spat out but my anger far surpassed his. My anger had been boiling away inside of me for three years and now I was finally getting a chance to vent it, no matter how much trouble I was getting myself into.
"You just shut your mouth. Betty and me done nothin' but keep you safe." he hissed through clenched teeth.
"By locking me in that house and not letting me outside? What do you think was going to happen to me? You and Betty hurt me more than anyone would have on the streets!" I screamed.
It was true. For three years I had been a human punching bag to both him and Betty. I had cuts, bruises and burns all over my body to prove it too, if only they had let me out of that house I would have been long gone by now. I would have gone to the police; I would have gone to anyone who could have helped. Now was not the time to be bringing that up though. The more I stalled and kept him out on the lawn, the more venomous his hits and kicks would be should I not be able to get away. "I don't want to hear ya turning my wife's name into mud. You can't prove we done nothin' to ya. No one is gonna believe a word ya say over me and Betty." He smirked, making me cringe.
I had nothing left to say to this man. I couldn't think of any more that's described the deep hatred I felt towards him or his wife. We stood there, in the fresh front lawn staring each other down. I wasn't going to look away from his eyes that were shooting daggers at me. I wasn't going to let him win.
"You get your lazy, ungrateful ass back inside! Now! Get in here right now before I come down there and make ya!" he yelled.
"No!" I screamed.
Surely someone would hear my cries and alert the police.
"What did ya say girl?" he took another step closer, his face breaking out into another evil smile.
I was giving him an excuse to hurt me.
"No." I said, this time a whisper.
I was so scared I couldn't move. I just stood there watching him creep closer and closer to me.
"No? I'll give you a reason to say no!" he cried lunging forward, aiming for my neck.
I was too quick for him. Years of abuse had made my reflexes as sharp and an eagles and I was able to doge the first blow. I wasn't so lucky the second time.
When he stumbled after missing me, he somehow managed to regain balance before lashing out and hitting me squarely on the nose. It hurt. The first punch always did. But I had had much worse and I was able to stay standing for the second and third blow.
My foster father was relentless. Cuffs to my face soon brought me to the ground and that was when the kicking began. I felt his foot connect with my side and I let out a piercing scream. I hadn't done that in a long time, at least for two years. I had learnt to remain quiet and not let him think he had won.
This scream was different though. It wasn't a scream of pain, more of a battle cry. A feeling of power overcame me. I had never experienced it before, but it gave me strength.
My foster father mistook my screams as a sign that I was weakening. He straightened with triumph, and I knew it was now or never. With the anger of years of abuse and maltreatment, I kicked up and out, hitting him squarely in the crutch of his pants. He doubled over instantly.
I stood as quickly as my broken body would allow, panting heavily. My lip and brow was bleeding and my eyes were already becoming puffy. I didn't need a mirror to know that my face looked a mess.
"You bitch!" my foster father groaned, dropping to the ground.
His face was constricted into a look of sheer pain and he was sweating profusely.
I didn't wait to find out what happened next. I grabbed up my bag and ran.
A/N: Thanks so much to my very first reviewer! Honestly, this is the first fic I have ever written and it was going to be the last after no one responded to it. So thanks again and keep reviewing!
A/N: Just one last thing. For my next chapters I am going to be introducing new characters so if you want your name or any name to be included leave it in your review and I'll see what I can do!
I was almost to the door. Just a few more steps stood between me and freedom. I glanced over my shoulder in nervous excitement and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my foster father of three years was still off his face, dozing on the lounge. I would make it! I reached out a shaking hand and clutched the big brass handle, swinging the old wooden door open. That same door had kept me prisoner in that grubby old house for three years and to finally beat it felt like world domination. It was the first time that door had ever opened freely to me; my foster mother must have slipped up when deadlocking it.
I let out a stifled cry as I placed my first bare foot out of the house in three long years. The green grass was cool and soft under my feet and the dampness soothed me. I reached into my bag quickly and pulled out a pair of old thongs that were so worn that the sole was almost as thin as paper. Dropping them to the ground, I slipped them on.
Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough. A hacking cough from behind me filled me with dread. He was awake. That monster who had kept me locked in that house for three years was awake and he wasn't going to let me leave, at least not without a fight.
"Where do ya reckon you're going missy?" came his slurred voice from behind me.
I stiffened as I felt him move towards me. I couldn't turn around to face him, I was too much of a coward. A shiver ran down my spine as images of past arguments popped into my mind... I had to turn around; it was the only way to survive his cruelty.
I chanced a quick change in direction, hoping that he wasn't already advancing upon me. He wasn't. He was leaning against the veranda post, watching me with that lob-sided grin, his yellow, broken teeth making me want to gag. I fought down my revulsion and the increasing urge to vomit. I had to remain strong, or he would kill me for sure.
"Leaving." I told him plainly, thanking God that my voice didn't show the panic I felt.
He let out a short, evil laugh and wiped his grubby face on the beer Singlet he was wearing, the same Singlet he had been wearing for the last month. He really was revolting and I couldn't believe I had survived so long in his house of hell.
"Leavin' are ya?" Where do ya reckon you're goin' to? You got no one. Only me and your mother!" he yelled back at me in amusement, leaving the veranda and coming closer.
I stepped back out of instinct. The little voice in my head was yelling 'run, run!" but I couldn't move. I could only managed a few stumbling steps back, tripping over my own feet. He only laughed harder at my blundering, breaking off from his hacking noise when he was over come with yet another coughing fit.
"You are not my parents!" I yelled back with as much calmness as I could master.
I was suddenly over come with a feeling of power. How dare this man stand before me, after keeping me a prisoner for three years in that house, and tell me what to do, tell me I had no where to go. I did have some place to go, but hell would freeze over before I told him where it was.
"Me and Betty been as good as parents! We took ya in when no one else would. Not even your parents wanted ya!" he spluttered in anger.
"My parents are dead! You only took me in to do your bidding. I was your slave!" I cried as I chanced another step back.
"We gave ya a better home than most would have. We gave ya the food off our table and the clothes off our backs and what thanks do Betty and me get? We ask ya to do a few chores here and there and ya try running!" his face was growing red with the heat of the sun and the alcohol in his blood, I could see a vein pulsing dangerously in his neck.
"A few chores? I did everything! Anyone could have given me a better home than you and Betty have!" I yelled.
I couldn't stop myself. I knew I was making him angrier with each insulting remark I spat out but my anger far surpassed his. My anger had been boiling away inside of me for three years and now I was finally getting a chance to vent it, no matter how much trouble I was getting myself into.
"You just shut your mouth. Betty and me done nothin' but keep you safe." he hissed through clenched teeth.
"By locking me in that house and not letting me outside? What do you think was going to happen to me? You and Betty hurt me more than anyone would have on the streets!" I screamed.
It was true. For three years I had been a human punching bag to both him and Betty. I had cuts, bruises and burns all over my body to prove it too, if only they had let me out of that house I would have been long gone by now. I would have gone to the police; I would have gone to anyone who could have helped. Now was not the time to be bringing that up though. The more I stalled and kept him out on the lawn, the more venomous his hits and kicks would be should I not be able to get away. "I don't want to hear ya turning my wife's name into mud. You can't prove we done nothin' to ya. No one is gonna believe a word ya say over me and Betty." He smirked, making me cringe.
I had nothing left to say to this man. I couldn't think of any more that's described the deep hatred I felt towards him or his wife. We stood there, in the fresh front lawn staring each other down. I wasn't going to look away from his eyes that were shooting daggers at me. I wasn't going to let him win.
"You get your lazy, ungrateful ass back inside! Now! Get in here right now before I come down there and make ya!" he yelled.
"No!" I screamed.
Surely someone would hear my cries and alert the police.
"What did ya say girl?" he took another step closer, his face breaking out into another evil smile.
I was giving him an excuse to hurt me.
"No." I said, this time a whisper.
I was so scared I couldn't move. I just stood there watching him creep closer and closer to me.
"No? I'll give you a reason to say no!" he cried lunging forward, aiming for my neck.
I was too quick for him. Years of abuse had made my reflexes as sharp and an eagles and I was able to doge the first blow. I wasn't so lucky the second time.
When he stumbled after missing me, he somehow managed to regain balance before lashing out and hitting me squarely on the nose. It hurt. The first punch always did. But I had had much worse and I was able to stay standing for the second and third blow.
My foster father was relentless. Cuffs to my face soon brought me to the ground and that was when the kicking began. I felt his foot connect with my side and I let out a piercing scream. I hadn't done that in a long time, at least for two years. I had learnt to remain quiet and not let him think he had won.
This scream was different though. It wasn't a scream of pain, more of a battle cry. A feeling of power overcame me. I had never experienced it before, but it gave me strength.
My foster father mistook my screams as a sign that I was weakening. He straightened with triumph, and I knew it was now or never. With the anger of years of abuse and maltreatment, I kicked up and out, hitting him squarely in the crutch of his pants. He doubled over instantly.
I stood as quickly as my broken body would allow, panting heavily. My lip and brow was bleeding and my eyes were already becoming puffy. I didn't need a mirror to know that my face looked a mess.
"You bitch!" my foster father groaned, dropping to the ground.
His face was constricted into a look of sheer pain and he was sweating profusely.
I didn't wait to find out what happened next. I grabbed up my bag and ran.
A/N: Thanks so much to my very first reviewer! Honestly, this is the first fic I have ever written and it was going to be the last after no one responded to it. So thanks again and keep reviewing!
A/N: Just one last thing. For my next chapters I am going to be introducing new characters so if you want your name or any name to be included leave it in your review and I'll see what I can do!