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Chapter Two: Remembering

"Isabella! Get down here NOW," Gavin shouted from the basement.

My stomach clenched, and I looked toward my foster mom, who purposely avoided my gaze and continued to prepare the lunch we had been working on for my foster dad, Gavin. I nervously wiped my shaking hands on my jeans and self-consciously pulled my t-shirt up higher.

"And bring some more beer!"

Gulping, I grabbed a twenty-four pack from the fridge and slowly made my way downstairs. I wanted nothing more than to tell him to go and play in some traffic, but the last time I told him off, he beat me black and blue.

It wasn't the first time I was slapped or kicked by a foster family, but never have I been beaten until I'd lost consciousness.

So, I did as I was asked and went down the stairs. Knowing, the probability of me being hit on by a bunch of fat and hairy, fifty-year-old pigs, was very high.

"One more month," I chanted in my head. "In one month, you'll be 18 and can leave this hell hole".

As I took the last step and rounded the corner, I was grabbed and pulled into a chest, a large beefy hand come over my mouth, muffling my shriek of surprise. The beer fell to the floor as I reached for my face; desperately attempting to get the man's hand off of my mouth.

Laughter filled the room as men stumbled toward the fallen beer cans. Cracking open the beer, they downed them within seconds. Suddenly, my arms were yanked behind me. I started to protest, screaming as loud as I could. Deep down, however, I knew my foster mom would do nothing about my screams.

Drunk men came towards me, practically shoving one another for a chance to touch me. Hands groped my body, and hot foul breath fanned my face.

I clenched my eyes shut, trying not to vomit. I desperately tried to yank myself free but couldn't. Finally, when I knew they were not going to stop and that things would get a whole lot worse, I mustered all the energy and strength I had and slammed my head backward and then forward. I ignored the pain coursing through my skull from my head connecting with the two men's.

Using their distraction and the drunkenness of the others to my advantage. I launched my body forward and raced for the stairs. I had only gone a few steps when someone grabbed hold of my legs and yanked me backward. I fell hard. When my body made contact with the floor, I began crawling away. It wasn't long before a powerful kick, was driven into my side. I let out a strangled cry. More laughter, I choked back my sobs, and that's when I spotted it. I couldn't believe my luck. On the table where the men had been playing poker lay a gun. Leaping to my feet and dodging the arms that came at me, I threw myself onto the table and grabbed the gun.

Without hesitation, I turned around and fired. Adrenaline coursed through my body, no one was laughing anymore as they froze staring at me.

"Give it here you bitch!" My foster dad screamed as he lunged for me.

I fired the gun once more.

BANG

His body froze, his eyes wide, then he crumpled to the floor.

My hands were trembling, and my voice shook, but I shouted to the remaining four men.

"Get the fuck away from me, or I'll fucking kill you."

No one moved. So I shot the wall behind their heads.

They scattered like sheep.

•

I shot upright in bed, gasping and failing to get air into my lungs. My hands scratched at my throat, leaving red marks along my neck. Sweat ran down my back, as I choked on my sobs.