Morally Grey

Chapter 10

I wake up to the sound of my alarm blaring.

"Ughhhh, shut uppppp" I groan hitting the snooze button. I'm never drinking again, my head is pounding. Being hung over is a state of mind, just don't think about it and you'll be fine. I shove all hungover thoughts to the back of my head and suddenly feel way better. Okay maybe I will drink again.

I lay in bed for another half an hour before getting up to have breakfast before I starved to death. I check in on Sophie who didn't make it to her room and passed out on the sofa.

I make some toast and have a cup of coffee before deciding to wake the beast snoring in my living room.

"Soph? Wake wakeyyy" I say gently while patting her back, keeping my distance incase she decides to empty the contents of her stomach on me.

"Go awayyyyy......" a small voice calls out from under the blanket I covered her with last night.

" I made coffee and toast, eat up," I say leaving the plate of toast and cup of coffee on the coffee table and making my escape. Now don't get me wrong I have a good stomach for guts and gore but I refuse, I REFUSE to clean up someone else's vomit and my rule is if I'm not there when they throw up I will not clean the throw up,up. Hehe.

I go and have a shower staying in there till the water began to run cold. Getting out of the shower, I walk into my bedroom with my towel wrapped around me and a towel on my head. I walk over to my bed and sit on the end of it, infront of the full length mirror I stole from the side of the road.

Start applying lotion all over my body while trying to keep my towel wrapped around around me, eventually I give up and drop the towel, staring at myself in the mirror I grimace. I build up the courage and stand up and turn around to look at my back in the mirror.

Tears prick my eyes as I look at my back, staring at the word WHORE, messily carved into the middle of my back.

"Where have you been?" My father demands as I walk in the door. I was at the park, hoping he would be passed out in an alcoholic coma by the time I got home.

"Out." I say feebly, big mistake. This angered him even more as he reaches for his belt. The familiar pit of sheer terror forms in my stomach and I accept my impending punishment.

"Where have you been! Out with men? You're a whore! Just like your mother!" He shouts, his words dripping with venom. The potent smell of alcohol off him burns my nose.

I stayed silent, knowing it didn't matter what I say I would still be whipped, beaten and probably worse. It was inevitable. I could fight back but it would only cause more torment in my future if by some minuscule chance it made him temporarily back off.

He spiralled into a rage fuelled frenzy and stormed into the kitchen, I stayed in the living room as he came charging back into the room. It was pointless to escape, he'd still beat me when I come back, and besides where would I go? My friends? If only I had them. My family? My grandparents gave up on me long ago, they're strangers to me now. There's no one to save me. Just a lifetime of abuse that awaits me. Hopefully this time he'll finally kill me. I beg for him to end this with all my might, hoping he'll hear my silent prayers.

" Bend over!" He screams and I do what I was told, I didn't have it in me to fight him anymore. It was pointless. I'm broken.

Bending over, I brace myself for the burn of his belt hitting my skin.

Instead he rips my t shirt off and throws me on the sofa, my heart starts racing and I feel sick to my stomach praying to god he's not going to to what I think he's going to do again.

Not that. Anything but that.

He flips me onto my stomach and I go limp in his arms, tears pricking my eyes but I stay silent, I'm numb inside, playing dead on the outside just as I was on the inside.

I see something glint in his hand and I'm confused for a brief moment before I experience a new form of agony I hadn't felt before but the kind of agony I would carry with me with every step I took in my miserable and pathetic existence.

I bit my lip till it bled trying not to scream and the searing pain in my back intensifies, my tears streaming down my face, trying to escape my pain as I'm almost paralysed from the pain.  Every nerve in my body was screaming in agony, my body was on fire, bile was rising in my stomach as fat tears escaped my eyes in pleading sobs to escape the pain, begging for the sweet mercy of death.

"Please!" I cry, I barely recognise my own voice. I sounded so weak, so frail and scared. I sounded broken, who was this girl trapped in my body? And what did she do to deserve this?

"Please what? Are you begging for me? Are you begging for it? Whore." He seethes sadistically into my ear,viciously yanking my hair until I felt blood pool atop my scalp, before getting off me and walking away he throws the thing he had in his hand onto the floor with a metallic clatter and disappearing, probably for another drink. It won't be long before he's back for more and the cycle will continue. Breathe, bleed, get knocked out, repeat.

Shakily climbing off the wilting and busted sofa.  I realise the thing he was holding in his hand was a knife. I pick up the now bloody and blunt butter knife off the filthy ground and look at it, disgusted at my own flesh that remained stuck to the knife, repulsed at myself.

I rush to my room and close the door silently barricading myself in, dreading to think of what he's done to me.Looking in my broken mirror I gasp, tears threatening to spill again as I can just about make out the word WHORE  permanently branded into my skin.

"Just like my mother." I whisper to myself as I dig my fingers into the open wounds, the pain takes a different form, one of comfort and familiarity as I watched my crimson blood pour down my back in never ending streams until my grey- once light blue jeans were soaked and sticky in my blood. I deserve this. I should have never been born.

A whore. I almost scoff. I've never even been looked at twice by a boy, yet alone done anything that they do on the tv. But he thinks I am. I must be.

You what they say, give a girl a title and she'll become it.

I hear the sound feet running to the bathroom from outside of my room, snapping me out of my daze as I rush to put on sweatpants and a t shirt, not bothering with a bra. #freethenip

Just as I was leaving my room, my phone rings.

"Hi Donny, you found him?"

"Great, thanks." I speak to the phone and hang up.

Apparently Mr D'Amica has been staying in a hotel room at The Plaza indefinitely and I think I need to pay him a little visit sometime to get him out of my hair for good.

Aslong as I have the crown, I have leverage and he can't kill me, but I can kill him no problem.

The only question is when?

A/N what do you think of the story so far?

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