I've always pondered on deaths door, but he's never opened. I could care less about the hell and heaven shenanigans, but death. I want it. The end of my life.
I want to be in my suit, in my coffin, in the ground and my soul to be gone. I've been wa...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I've always had a feeling that I would die young. Ever since I started pondering on deaths door I've had this feeling. I could care less about the hell and heaven shenanigans, but death. I want it. The end of my life.
I want to be in my suit, in my coffin, in the ground and my soul to be gone. I've been waiting for 16 years, yet no sign of death opening his door no matter how many times I ring his doorbell. Yeah, I enjoy thinking about my end. Especially in moments like this...
I fall back at the impact of his punch. My already bruised body hits the cold wood floor as I try my hardest not to cry.
That's gonna bruise.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" My father yells at me.
My fucking father, Newt Duarte has been hitting me for my whole life however it only got worse once I turned 10. He has done the same thing with my younger sister, Norah.
People always see the bruises he leaves on our bodies. The visible and invisible scars. They've seen and whispered about it for years, but no one listens when I explain to them that my family is fine. No one wants to listen. They choose to spread rumours about my father.
"I'm- I'm sorry dad," I speak quietly, protecting my head with my hands. "This is just discipline and you deserve it." He says as he opens the door and walks out of my room.
He's right. This is what I deserve. I did take a few dollars from his wallet. I should have asked him for money instead of just taking it.
Once he has completely disappeared, I cry feeling the pulsing pain in my face. My chest feels heavy, the fear and exhaustion never leaving.
From the corner of my eye I see my sister peaking from my door. "Please help me." I cry out softly, showing her my bruised cheek.
She nods, walking in with concealer that matches my shade and a makeup brush. "We have to hurry since we have school in a bit."
She starts applying the concealer to my wet cheek and blends it in. "I'm sorry." She apologises, holding back her tears.
"It's not your fault."
𓆞༄･ﾟ𓆝࿐ ࿔*: 𓆟
First chapter done ✅ Maybe I should spoil you guys more by giving you another chapter 😏😉 Thank you so much for giving our book a shot <3
