Forever

Chapter 5

The next morning I wake up sore. I look at my surroundings and realize I was in my father's room, lying on the floor. How did I get here? He barely ever lets me in here, and when he does, its to serve him.

"Where have you been?!" he slurs, eyes in slits. I can tell he's mad at me, for nothing.

"I was studying at the library. I'm sorry, dad. I know you don't like me to do-"

He stops me by throwing a beer bottle at me. It scrapes my cheek, forming a jagged cut across my face. Tears come to my eyes but I hold them in, knowing if he sees me cry, it'll only get worse.

"Don't speak unless you're spoken to," he snarls at me. I have to listen. It's not like I can just tell him to stop torturing me. That would just make everything a million times worse. All I can do is endure the agonizing pain until I can finally leave this place. I look down, trying to show apology in my eyes, even if it is completely fake.

Ha slaps me, "Aren't you going to apologize?"

"I'm sorry" I whisper, so quiet it's almost ineligible.

"What?" he asks, with fake sympathy in his voice, "I didn't hear that."

"I'm sorry," I say, a little louder this time emphasizing the 'sorry'.

"That's better," he plasters the most fake smile I've ever seen on his face, his voice sickly sweet, "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No" I answer. I hear him clear his throat, "no, sir," I correct myself.

"That's better," he smiles, his voice still coated with sugar. "Now, where were we?" He slapped me, leaving the left side of my face stinging and painful. He then jerked his knee up into my stomach causing me to double over in pain. I looked up into his eyes, which were glimmering with hatred.

"Why are you doing this to me? I'm your daughter. Don't you have even an ounce of humanity in your body?" I ask weakly.

"What did I say about talking?" He asked viciously, dragging his nails along my face, which were long considering he never cut them, so he could hurt me. Ha stalked to the fridge and grabbed a beer out of it, chugging it down as fast as he could. this was going to get bad. Worse than usual.

He grabbed another beer out of the fridge and chugged that, too. Then, he opened the cabinet and took out some vodka, not even bothering to pour it into a glass before he took huge gulps finishing half of it off in a minute, or even less. When he finishes it, he moves to the bathroom, and when he comes back, he seems different. He's calm, and it scares me. It's the calm in movie right before something jumps out at you.

Instead of walking over to me, he walks over to a table behind him. Grabbing a vase off of it, he throws it at me, and it cuts me lip and chest.

Then, he walks over to me, and wipes the blood from the cut on my chest dragging his hands down to my breasts.

He rips my shirt off leaving me only in my old, tattered bra, that is far too small for me, and pants. He tears his eyes away from my chest, and brings it to my face. I look up, too, just in time to see an eerie smile on his face. It's not an 'I hate you and want it hurt you smile', but it almost feels worse.

He grabs my hips and shoves them towards his, where I can start to feel a bulge forming between. He sucks the skin on my neck, biting it between his teeth. Backing up, he grabs to huge bottles of gin from the cupboard, and shoves one at me.

"Drink it," he growls, so I open it up and take a sip. The bitter taste burns my throat, but I keep drinking for fear of him hurting me. I know I'm breaking the law, I'm only 17, but what else can I do, it's my life on the line.

I drank the whole thing each sip searing my throat, making the illusion of it being on fire.

"That's it. Now savor this because you are never getting this again." he then shoved me against the wall shoving his lips to mine and prying my lips open with his, then swirling his tongue with mine. I felt nauseated, and tried to push away but he shoved me against the wall and started grinding his hips against mine.

"Damn, you look so much like your mother, if only you had her attitude too." he mumbled against my lips. Then, he picked me up and slung me over his shoulder carrying me upstairs, then dropping me on the bed.

"I am going to make you feel so good" he smirked. He fell onto the bed, and climbed on top of me, and started kissing me again, the bulge in his pants growing bigger. He grabbed the belt hook on my jeans and pulled them down, leaving me in only a bra and panties.

"What is happening? What is happening?" I thought to myself. He took his shirt off, exposing his stomach, which proved he wasn't in the best shape, probably because of all the alcohol. He pulled down his pants, then his boxers, leaving him butt naked, and on top of me. About to molest me. There was no way I could stop it and nothing I could do to stop him from doing this again.

"You are so damn hot." he slurred between kisses. He unstrapped my bra, leaving me almost fully exposed. His eyes widened at the sight of my breasts, and he pulled down my panties in a hurry.

That was the last thing that happened before I blacked out. The only thing I remember is him moaning my mothers name.

Now awake, I rush out of the room hoping he won't remember, because he could regret it and hurt me, or worse, do it to me again. I ran out of the room with a pounding headache from the gin last night, and I walked into the bathroom. When I grabbed the razor, I cut into my skin deeper than I had done before, with hopes that it may kill me.

One for letting him molest you.

Two for letting him hurt you.

Three for being alive.

Four for being born.

Five for drinking last night.

Six for not dying already.

Then fourteen more because I really wanted to die. But then I stopped because I knew that if my life hadn't ended yet, I would have to find another way to end it.

I wrapped my arm up so the blood wouldn't go through my clothes, then put on a sweater and some jeans, and ran out the door. A car stopped beside me as I was walking down the long path to school. I looked up and realized it was Justin.

"Do you need a ride?" He asked me, and I nodded my head and plastered a smile on my face so he wouldn't see how much pain I was in. "Emily, that smile is so fake. Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked.

Of course he knew it was fake. But I can't tell him. Abuse is one thing, but if he found out that my father molested me last night, I don't even want to know what he would do.