Flashback
Isabella winced as she took another hit to the back with a thin yellow belt. Like with most abusive parents, it wasn't her father hitting her, it was her mother. Not that her father didn't hit her verbally, he did. But, he supposedly thought that a man hitting a women was wrong, so he waited for her mother to do it.
"Don't you cry you little bitch!" Her mother screamed at her. She hit Isabella one more time, extra hard. "Get your ugly, stupid, useless ass to your room!"
Isabella didn't hesitate before running upstairs and shoving her bedroom door closed behind her. She slid her back down the wall, letting the tears flood her eyes and soak her skin and clothes. Isabella fell asleep like that. She dreamt that she had wings. She dreamt that she flew away from this place. But soon, the dream went black and she was transfered to a place worse that haunted her dreams. Her own goddamn bedroom.
"Gat your ugly ass up!" This time it was her father's voice. He pounded on her door. She quickly wiped her eyes and opened it. "Your trash ass better not get into anymore of these stupid ass fights! You would loose anyways!" He chuckled. "I want you dressed nicely and down for dinner in an hour. My boss is coming and you will not disappoint him. You've already disappointed me and your mother. You useless ugly bitch."
Isabella nodded and closed the door. She did as she was told, she knew if she didn't she'd get a flogging while being verbally abused at the same time.
Flashback ends
Isabella wasn't ugly. Or stupid. Or useless. But when a child at just the age of 11 is told these things, they will believe them. Isabella had a brain like Einstein. She read constantly and had to take care of herself. By the time she was just 5 she could read books as advanced as 'The boy in the striped pajamas' and 'To kill a mockingbird'.
She was always advanced, but her parents never let her move up a grade. That would draw to much attention to the quiet, supposedly happy family. So, Isabella never paid attention. She already knew everything the teachers were teaching. Her note and work books instead of being filled with work were overflowing with doodles. Isabella loved to draw, it was one thing she could do without getting in trouble.
Isabella's never paying attention and constant scoldings lead to teasing, and eventually, full on bullying. Kids would call her name's lie 'freak','Spic' and 'Nigger'. Isabella's mother was Mexican, her father was African American. These terms set her off. She remembers wanting to train. Wanting to read up on combat and defensive strategy. And that she did.
She became skilled with combat in categories such as boxing, karate, and basic street fighting. Isabella remembers her first serious fight. At just the Get of 9.
Flashback
"What's up, ya freak?" A boy named Connor had teased. Since Isabella had read up on defense, she tried to ignore him at first. "Did they kick you out of Mexico?" He said the country with a false, offensive accent, "Who am I kidding, course they did. You're a freak! A freak!"
Isabella whipped around at her unexpecting tormenter and his buddies. She gets ready for a fight, putting her hands up in fists.
"What, you finally bringing out your true gangsta, nigga!" That was it. She swung at his face, he jumped back in surprise. But not quick enough. His two buddies ran off, but Connor stared at her. "You little squaw!"
That was one she hadn't heard before. She would need to look that up in her dictionary when she got home. He kicked her hard in the stomach. She recoiled, but only for a minute before she shoved him to the ground. She sat on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground with her legs. She swung at his face, to many times to count. Connor kicked his legs, uselessly. Isabella was smart. She didn't knock him out, she just hit him hard enough for it to hurt. For him to feel pain. After a minute, when he was barely conscious, blood everywhere, she grabbed his chin roughly.
"You little bastard, if you come near me again, I won't stop. Hear me? I won't." She spat. He nodded his head vigorously before standing up.
That was her first fight. Her first win. It felt good.
Flashback ends
Throughout Isabella had been through more fights than countable. She had loss some, but she won more. She was a good fighter, a quick thinker, and pretty damn gorgeous.
Her eyes were a penetrating blue, despite both her parents having dark eyes. Her hair was long and a mix of the Mexican genes (softa and smooth) but also had some African American in it (curls for days, as well as thickness). Her face was round and her cheekbones we're like Cameron Diazs'. Her small button nose was like her father's. It was wider, rather than pointy. Her skin was a shade darker than cinnamon. Isabella was truly beautiful. Truly smart. Truly tough.
Not helping with the bullying were several medical disabilities that got her more names like 'retard' and 'special needs'. Isabella had a stutter which affected her speech greatly and resulted in endless mimicking. She also has ADHD, making her not be able to sit still, but this didn't affect her learning at all. Actually, at their town library they had several different seating arrangements that helped greatly with her ADHD. Another thing affecting her is minor anxiety. Isabella is always worried about the next beating. Or the next fight. Or something as little as the next chapter in her book. When she gets worried or scared or even after a fight her palms get sweaty and her stomach twists up and, one time, she was so worried about being home late that her throat started to close. Obviously it wasn't really, it just felt like that. Making every one of these things 10x worse than it already is, are her anger issues. Little things set her off, because as a child there were so many issues that she couldn't fix.
Isabella was a recluse. She lived out in the woods and usually grew And hunted her own food. She rarely went out, even to the doctors. This was because Isabella was afraid. Afraid she'd be treated the same way as she was when she was a child. She would be bullied and shunned (either that or pity, which in Isabella's book, wasn't any better). She would get weird stares if the scars in her arms, legs and back were exposed. Here society was, trying to make women uncover more skin.
But none of that mattered now. It didn't matter if Isabella was bullied or shunned. It didn't matter if she hid or showed her scars. It didn't matter if she shot a human being. Nothing mattered. Except her and survival. Isabella had survived her childhood, the tearable world she grew up in. There was no way in hell she would die in the one that now claimed the planet now.
A/N - I feel like this would be a good story, a bit of a slow burn, but something good to read. Anyways, if you want this story review 'Isabella'.