Hey guys sorry this took so long to update we were kinda be procrastinating. Thanks for reading enjoy.

The day went by fairly quickly for me and soon it was time to walk home. There was, however, one blip in my otherwise flawless -or as flawless as you got when you had a life like mine- day. This blip went by the name of Natsu Dragneel. I supposed not telling him my name was a bad idea, because for the entire day, Natsu tried to catch me in hallways and classes we had together to talk. I'd managed to evade him the whole day, but I'd left school late, and I knew that I would suffer for this at the hands of my father. I turned the corner of the street only to crash right into the aforementioned pink-haired teen.

"Whoa, you okay?" Natsu asked me, "Second time I've run into you today."

I timidly tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and fumbled with my shirt.

"I'm fine. I really need to go," I said abruptly, running past him.

"Wait, can I walk home with you?" He asked, catching up to me.

I picked up the pace and shook my head fervently, "N-no. I…"

I checked my watch. It read 4:30. Panic swelled up inside of me. I sped up into a sprint and outran him.

"Can I at least get your name?" I heard him call from behind me.

I ignored him and charged, full speed, towards home.

When I got to my doorstep, I cracked the door open slowly and hoped my dad was still at work.

"LUCY!" A harsh voice rang out.

I guessed he wasn't at work.

I turned around to face my dad. He bent down to look me straight in the eye.

"You're late. You were supposed to be home by 4:00."

"I-I'm really sorry. It won't happen again," I mumbled.

Quick as a flash, he grabbed my wrist. I winced.

"YOU'RE LATE BY HALF AN HOUR LUCY! WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAVE DELAYED YOU!?" He screamed.

"I'm sorry," I said timidly, "I just was talking to this boy-"

"TALKING TO A BOY? AM I SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE? WHAT BOY WOULD EVEN WANT TO TALK TO YOU? WHAT BOY OR GIRL OR ANY HUMAN FOR THAT MATTER WOULD GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR PATHETIC WEAK SELF?" He screamed.

He threw me to the floor and started dragging me by my hair. I winced in pain and wrestled to get free. He dragged me to the basement and tossed me roughly down the stairs. Ow, that was going to leave a bruise. He yanked my wrists up and started tying them together roughly. He hung me up on the ceiling and left the room.

"I'll be back. Don't move," he said.

I struggled to get down from where I hung. I kicked my legs and wriggled my wrists to no avail. The one thing I could say for my dad is he's an expert knot-tier.

"Don't bother trying to get down," my dad's cruel voice leered.

Fear swelled in my stomach. He's back. My gaze traveled down to what he was holding in his hand. A red hot iron. I squirmed, panic rising in my throat. He walked slowly towards me. I scream. In a flash he's right beside me.

"Shut your mouth, bitch," he said, clamping a strong hand over my mouth.

With his free hand, he lifted my arm. I struggled more, tears coming to my eyes. He twisted my arm painfully, and my sobs were stifled with his hand.

He lifted the iron. The hot red tip touched my shoulder. I screamed into his hand. He started to drag the iron slowly down my arm. Tears spilled from my cheeks, my screams and sobs muffled in his hand. The scent of burning flesh filled my nostrils. The pain was blinding. The iron continued to travel down my arm. I kicked and screamed and sobbed to no avail. The smell overpowered me. He's laughing now. A maniacal laugh that strained my ears. By the time the iron reached my wrist, he's positively screaming in delight.

He stops and drops the iron.

"I hope you learned your lesson, bitch," he spits.

Then he leaves the room.

The pain is positively excruciating. The ropes pull at my arms and rip the wound burned into my skin wide open. And so I hang there, crying and screaming and in pain, for two hours before I finally blackout.