CHAPTER 4 - Just One More Day…

"Just one more day," I mumble to myself over and over as I do the chores. Pain from my head, ribs, and bruises making it that much harder. I just finished cleaning, I did laundry yesterday, and it's not time for me to cook. So I need to do my school work.

I slowly walk into the back room of the house, where the laptop is. I grab the laptop and sit down at a desk. I open it up, and get straight to work. Algebra, history and religion, business management, and that fun stuff. I get done with all the stuff I need to do today, and work on any other work I have. I'm doing well in school, all 95+ grades. Mr. King says that if I ge get a B-eating. The world's cruelest joke, heh.

I decide to stop working ahead at lunch time, so I can make something for Mr. King and I to eat.

I hastily make my way over to the kitchen and pull out some raw chicken I ordered not to long ago. I also grab some rice, souping it up with some butter and spices. I add water and throw it in the microwave for 6 minutes, and let it go.

Returning to the chicken, I spice it up with some basic Italian herbs and spices. I pull out a pan from under the over, and start to cook. The smell of the cooking chicken making my stomach growl. This time I'm making enough that I'll be able to eat a small portion, hopefully Mr. King doesn't notice.

I hear the microwave ding, and know the rice is done. I finish up cooking the chicken, and lay it out on a plate. I then swoop over to the microwave, pull out the rice, and set it out on the plate as well.

I leave a small amount of rice in the bowl, and grab the smallest piece of chicken for myself. I quietly hide it in my room, and quickly return to Mr. King's plate.

I grab clean silverware and a napkin. I then carefully carry it over to him in the living room, keep my eyes low. He accepted it with a huff, and 'politely' tells me to leave.

I do so without a fuss, heading straight to my room. I rush to the small portion I left for myself and devour it hungrily, pain hardly mattering to me. The delicious meal makes me smile. I rarely ever get to eat any of the food 8 make.

In the distance I hear Mr. King cough, making me tense. I peek my head out the door of my room and sigh when I see that he isn't in the hallway. I silently but quickly rush the dirty dishes from my room to the sink, and pray he didn't notice me.

"Grab me a drink!" Mr. King yells at me from his spot in the living room, making me tremble.

"Yes sir," I say meekly, but loud enough that he hears it.

I quickly rush to the fridge, and open it. I pull out one of the many cans of beer, and then go to hand it to Mr. King, closing the fridge behind me. When I reach the living room, he scowls at me, and holds out his hand. I hand him the beer, and he grabs my wrist, yanking me forward.

I drop the can, and yelp at the sudden movement and the pain it caused.

"You've been a bad girl," he says, pulling me closer to his face.

"I'm sorry," I whimper, scared for my life.

"And what are you sorry for?" He asks, causing me to shudder with fear.

What do I say? There are many reasons he could be mad at me.

"Well?" He asks, his voice louder than before.

"I-" I stutter, "I don't know…"

"You don't know?" He says with a laugh.

"You don't know?" He says again, louder.

Mr. King stands up, his menacing form towering above my trembling one.

"Well I guess I better show you then huh?" He says, making me start to cry.

He grabs my hair and pulls it up. Forcing me to stand up and face him.

But he doesn't look at my face, instead he looks at my chest.

Fear courses through me, and the only thing I can think is "I need to get out. Now."

I see him reach for his belt with his other hand, and I can't take it.

"Please! Let me go! I beg of you, please!" I plead helplessly, knowing he won't let me go. But he doesn't even acknowledge my words, as he undoes his belt.

I kick, scream, and thrash about, but his grip is stronger.

"Shut it, slut," he growls at me. As he let's go of my hair, and grabs my throat.

I panic as I begin choking, and I frantically claw at his arm. I scratch off his skin, and leave marks on his arm in my attempt to free myself. Black dots slowly start to take my vision, but just as I close my eyes, he tosses me to the ground.

I gasp desperately for air trying to get the oxygen my body so desperately needed. I glanced up at Mr. King and scramble to my feet and to the door. He is pissed.

"Oh no you don't," he yells at me, as he starts to stomp over to me. I pick up a beer can on the ground and toss it at him, causing him to stop and yell.

That was all the time I needed, as I flung open the door faster than I ever have in my life. I didn't even close it, as I take off like a bolt of lightning. Pain searing through me from the repeated use of my beaten and tattered body.

But by God, I wasn't going to stop running. I can hear in rage fueled screams of the man I once called my father. And as Mr. King Shane's through the door and gives chase, I run faster. I guess I closed the door while running.

I run faster than I ever have before. Faster than I knew I could run. And more importantly, faster than him.

I run into the woods, turning at random places in an attempt to make him lose me. Birds flee from the scene and leaves fly from beneath my feet as I run. Only for a second do I look back to the small building I once called my home. Only for a second, as that's all it took to see that Mr. King wasn't giving up. He was only 20 or so feet behind me, making me pick up my pace.

My legs burned and my body begged me to stop running, but I couldn't. If I did, Mr. King would surely kill me.

And as I ran, his yells and shouts got quieter. The distance between us slowly growing as his overweight body struggled to keep up. "I am so close," I think, determination fueling my mind and body as I ran.

"Soon I will be free," I think as I stare forward, paying no mind to anything but my running. Not the birds nor trees could stop me.

"I just need to keep going," I plead, fear dwelling in my mind.

"No," I cried as my pace slowed. The adrenaline wareing out far faster than I wanted.

"No," I repeat, as I looked behind me.

I could see Mr. King getting closer, his shouts now slowly getting louder.

But I can't keep going. My body won't let me. I heave as I hopelessly try to keep running. My legs ache, and my head screams with pain. A piercing, sharp pain. Tears fall freely from my eyes, clouding my already hazy vision.

Knowing I can't keep going, I look for a place to hide. Anywhere at all to get away and hopefully not be seen.

The only thing I see are trees, so I race over to one. Sliding up against it, I press myself into the tree. It's thicker than most, so I pray that he won't see me.

I hear Mr. King coming closer, still yelling for me to stop. But then he stops, and breathes heavily. I don't dare to look, so I just shove myself even harder into the side of the tree and mentally beg for my life. My broken run pangs in protest, but I do my best to ignore it, biting my lip to stay quite.

I can hear the crunching of the leaves as he comes closer. I hold my breath as his heavy footsteps draw ever closer…

I look to the side, and see him. Je walked right past me. He's looking around, painting heavily. He probably thinks he lost me. I stare at him, waiting for him to turn around and catch me. The pain that was once forcing me to stop has now turned into fear, no terror.

Just as I'm about to get up and keep running, something happens. A large, shadowy, human-like figure drops down in front of Mr. King, and grabs his face. The dark figure leans into and looks at him for a moment. I cover my mouth as a horrified wail escapes from Mr. King's mouth. Then everything goes silent.