Keep Breathing

♪cнapтer one♪: Routines

Around 5:30 every morning is my bodies set alarm. After so many beatings from my father, I've been programmed into this routine. One year when I was 10, I had gotten up to get ready for school. He was still home. I was going into the kitchen to get breakfast and when he saw me, he gave me a swift blow to the face. His excuse was and still is, "I can't stand the sight of you"! I've never gotten up around the same time as him again. I always wait for him to leave for work.

Every school day, I get up around this time. Silently, I grab my small portion of food, silently get dressed, and silent;y go back in my room. My father goes to work around 6. I go to school at 7. It works out okay. Same thing as this morning. With no hesitation, I go as stealthly as I can into the kitchen. My father, Tyson, keeps a small section of food for me in the fridge. He is smart enough to keep me feed, smart enough not to make any bruise to bad on my body, and smart enough to keep me alive. Without me, there is no money flowing in. I honestly don't know why he needs money. Tyson is a lawyer. A well-respected lawyer, well-money-healthy lawyer. Very weird right? By day a nice, carefree person. By night a heartless bastard!

If you're wondering why I havent reported this, well I have. When I was 14, a stupid, adolescent teenager, my father was in one of his moods. I said something like, "I'm done with you're shit!" and he got really violent. I ran out of the door, bloody mess and all, straight to the police station. I told them everything. The officer, Mike, that I was talking to was apparently of good friend of my dads. He took me back home and told everybody I was acting out. They all moved on. No one cared. Mike even watched as my own dad beat me unconscious. I haven't nor will ever tell anyone again.

The sound of running water lets me know my dad is in the shower. Him just being up is bad, but to make matters worse I really need to use the bathroom. Really fucking bad! I would hold it if it wasn't for the fear that I might explode. The fear of my father is just as bad. Maybe worse. My whole body is trembling as I walk to my bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, I open it. The water is still going and the bathroom door is shut. I let out that breath.

"Why the hell are you out here? You know the rules Haylee." I go instantly paralyzed at his threatingly calm voice coming from right behind me.
"I-I have to use the ba-bathroom." I wince at how pathetic I sound. Sharp pain shoots from my scalp when Tyson snaps my head back with my hair. Damn! I forgot to pull it up! 
"You. Know. The. Fucking, Rules," His voice is still deadly calm. His calmness scares the hell outta me. It means he is about to explode. Just like the calm before a violent tornado.
"I'm sorry." My voice is a squeaky whisper.

Either he doesn't hear me or he chooses to ignore it. Next thing I know is I am down on the floor and out of breath from a fast kick to my stomach. Can't breath! I can feel warmness flow from me.

"You disgust me! Filthy bitch." Tyson spits of me and walks into the bathroom.

When I finally get my air back I realize I just pissed myself. Anger and humiliation colors my face. This is just great!. Still cussing myself, I clean up the carpet and go back in my room to change. My black ripped up skinny jeans and my red black veil brides t-shirt are the only clean clothes I have. Completing my outfit with my converse. I make quick work with my make-up and hair, before I rush out the door and start my walk to school. I don't care if I am early. I just needed to be out of that house.

The hell people call school is no better than my own home. I even have a routine here. Stay away from crowds. Don't be seen. And always go last. Its how I survived middle school and the first 3 years of high school. No cars are in the parking lot but there will be soon. From many times of coming here really early, I know the doors are unlocked. Careful not to make any noise I step inside.  To some the desolate halls can be creepy. Not to me. I find immense comfort in being alone. Quickly making my way down the halls, I go into my favorite room of this whole prison.