Vic Fuentes' Daughter

Chapter 1

"Haley wake up! It's time for school!" My roommate screamed in her high pitched voice. I jolted up, rolling off of my mattress. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I tiredly glare up at her. "I'm up, I'm up, just give me a second. Will you?" She rolled her eyes and with a wicked smirk, she stepped on my stomach, as if it didn't hurt from yesterday's beating.

With every kick to my already fractured ribs, she beamed and laughed, as if it was the funniest joke in the entire planet. I guess it does makes sense. After all, I am the joke. "Shit," I winced in pain. She does this everyday; a schedule I would say. Every morning, afternoon, and night. Now you guys are probably thinking, "How does she do this, everyday?" Let me demostrate.

I wake up. Kick.
Come home from school. Punch.
But nights are the worst. It is the same as before and after school, but this time, words are spoken. Words like, whore, slut, bitch. Sentences like, no wonder your parents left you. You will never be the top. You will never be the main priority. You will always be trash, a dumpster. A nobody. You will never make it out alive and I will make sure of it.

My name is Haley Rogers. I am abused with words and beatings every single day, by almost everyone in the adoption center. My life isn't perfect. I am not perfect. I was four when my mother left me in this hell hole. Still till this day, I don't know anything about my father, not even his whereabouts. All I know is that, I was put on this earth to be a punching bag for these people. Not only am I sharing a room with my bully, but a psychopath who likes to pour milk and then her cereal into her bowl.

It doesn't help that I'm bullied at school as well and It sucks to know that whenever and wherever I go, people seem to either want to hurt me or watch me get hurt. With a sigh, I got ready for school, putting on my usual, black sweater, black leggings, and a pair of what? Black and white converse. As we can see, I like black. I leave my curly ass hair alone and wear it down, leaving my face bare. I am what guys would say, white caramel. I am white and half Hispanic. The joke is, I am extremely pale, so no one believes me when I tell them that. In fact no one talks to me at all.

I should probably describe myself a little. I have long, curly, brown hair and dull blue eyes. I am all about that short life. I stopped believing I would get tall, in middle school. It honestly sucks to be this short, 5'0. I mean come on, I wanna be where the people are; being able to grab a bag of chips on the highest shelf. Shaking my head, I grab my old art bag from under my bed and start heading out of the door. As I walk out, a lime green sticky note by the door catches my attention. It read, "Hal, don't forget we have visitors after school." -Deb.

Honestly, who cares. In the adoption adgency, let me tell you what they do for normal kids. They pick the "perfect kids or child" and keep them. For me, one of the fucked up kids, it's the total opposite. They take us, use, abuse, and manulipulate us into thinking, that we aren't good enough for them. They would lie and say that we were 'bad' children and send us back. And it's only for the money, because that's what they do. That's what they always do.