Crossing the gangster

chapter 10

The strong smell of jack daniels, something I had become so accustomed to whenever my father had a bad day, coated the living room like a blanket. From my position at the top of the stairwell, my curled up frame watched in fear as he staggered to the couch, holding the bottle of whiskey like a prized trophy.

He bellowed for his wife, someone that had left him. I watched as his fury rose when she didn't appear and when it dawned upon him that the woman he truly loved was not there. It was times like these when my father scared me the most when he was rip-roaring drunk and his mind was clouded by the anger and hurt my mother's leaving had caused him.

He threw the bottle to the floor and I watched with horror as the glass shattered, the liquid seeping out and staining the beautiful carpet. But when he started to yell, incoherent words that he threw at the thin air in front of him, I couldn't take it anymore and ran to my room.

Locking my door, I slipped under my bed and huddled up, as if it would protect me from my father decided to use me as a way to take out his wrath, something he often did and something I dreaded. No one could protect me when he got angry...

And this was all because of the woman I despised, the woman I had to call mother yet she didn't fulfil the duties she was supposed to behold. She LEFT us, my brother and me in the hands of my father, someone she KNEW would turn out to be a monster without her.

She hadn't even tried to fight for our custody or stay here for a clean divorce, instead mailing the papers to my father from where she was with her new boyfriend or now probably husband. It was HER fault any of this hell had broken loose, HER fault that my father was a drunkard and HER fault that I was physically abused.

I hated her with every single pore of my body and being, she could be rotting in hell now for all I cared.

I woke up with a start, a sheen of sweat plastering my forehead to my body and my breathing was heavy, as if I had just run a marathon.

I felt a slight dip in the bed and knowing it was probably Izzy trying to wake me up for school after I slept through my alarm, I let out a groan.

"Izzy five more minutes," I muttered before shifting my body away from her and snuggling into my pillow. I heard a deep chuckle, freezing in my spot slightly at the masculine tone. Who the hell is that?

I was about to get up from my spot and reach over to under the bed, aiming to retrieve my knife when what the stranger said next halted my actions. " Hazel what the fuck," He bellowed, slightly angered. Wait a minute I know that voice, my eyes narrowing as I placed it to be chris. What was that piece of shit doing here?My anger had clouded my judgment, boiling slowly and simmering as I remembered the humiliating incident he caused. How dare he embarrass me like that, in front of people I had known for a long long time.

I still remembered the jealous looks of many girls, who derived to the conclusion that he was my boyfriend. My BOYFRIEND, huh like that was ever going to happen. I would rather jump off a cliff.

But my mind was snatched away from my thoughts with a sudden touch to the thin tank top on my back and I realised why exactly was he shocked. Oh shit, I have a lot of answering to do now...

I slowly turned to face his seething stare, eyes still latched onto where he saw the scars. I held up the blanket to my chest, hoping and praying that he would think what he saw was just a trick played to his eyes but I knew God was not so kind.
My eyes held the slightest sliver of fear as they met the dark ones of his, his jaw tightened and voice shaking with fury. "Why. The. Fuck. Do. You. Have. Belt. Scars. On. Your.Back?" He grounded out and I narrowed my eyes, still not forgiven him for the incident yesterday.