Fighting For Life (published)

Get out

Aubry's POV-

I woke up to cold water being poured over my head. I jolted up, but my body screamed as I did. My sides were on fire, I couldn't move my shoulder, and it hurt just to breathe. I felt like I had been ran over several times and then dragged off somewhere to die.

I looked up for the culprit who poured water over me. I was met with hard eyes that haunted me for too long.

"Get up. I can't believe that bastard didn't kill you!" My father said harshly.

Suddenly, I saw red. Maybe it was the fact my own father wanted me dead or the fact that I hadn't seen him since he stole the drugs that were not mine three weeks before, but whatever it was... I lost it. A switch flipped in my brain and I went berserk. I jumped up from my sitting position and attacked him. At first, I was kicking him, but then in my sudden rage I started strangling him. I felt in control, I was going to kill him. He deserved every bit of it, he deserved to die, and I deserved to be the one to kill him.

A few seconds after it began, it was over. I was ripped off my father and dragged across the room. The second that man touched me I felt sick, I felt dirty. I fought to have him let go of me, but he wouldn't budge.

"Let go of me sunny," I spat out, just saying his name made me gag. I hated that man more than I hated my father. He deserved to die as well. I wanted to make both of them suffer and cause very hard painful deaths.

"Mm little girl, the way you say my name makes me so hard." He said trying to grab my hand. I slammed my body back onto his. The pain made me want to scream and a few tears clouded my vision. His body slammed up against the wall extremely hard making him groan in pain. He let go of me as his back bounced off the beige wall with my blood stains.

I didn't go after my father again, I knew the two men were stronger than I was. Instead, I just stood there looking at him. The man that helped create me, the one I had called dad was gone, of course, he had left long before. What was left in his place was a monster. He was an addict, a cruel bastard, and a psychopath. I hated him and everything he had become. He was no father to me, he was just another horrible person that deserved to die.

His eyes met mine and we stared at each other for a few seconds. He expected me to back down, but I wasn't going to do that this time. He got angry at the disrespect I was showing him and scowled at me. "Get out." He growled. "Get out of my house, you bitch."

"Excuse me? No, I paid the bills on this house for the past three years, I will not leave." I stated stubbornly. I most certainly not leaving the house that I worked hard to keep over our heads.

"Get out!!!!!" He screamed louder making me think he was losing his mind. He walked to the end table across from me and pulled something out from the drawer. I couldn't tell what it was, but I knew it was going to be trouble. Suddenly, he raised it up towards me. "You have two minutes to get out before I blow your brains out just like your mother did to herself.... You're just like her, you know?"

My eyes went wide. I didn't even know he had a gun. After my mom died and the police took the gun that she killed herself with, I assumed we no longer had one.

I looked at him and squinted. "You're not gonna shoot me," I challenged him while standing my ground. There was no way my own father was going to actually shoot me.

He laughed coldly and clicked the bullet in to the chamber. "Do you really want to test me? You never were the good daughter, I never liked you." He stated while looking me dead in the eyes. I quickly understood that he wasn't joking. He never did like me, after all, I'm not Kelsey.

I ran into my room quickly and slammed the door. I locked it as fast as I could. In the closet I found an old duffel bag that my sister had given to me long before she left; most of my things were my sister's hand-me-downs. I quickly rummaged through my things and chunked in the clothes that I wore most of the time. I didn't have much, so it didn't take a long amount of time throwing most of my clothes into the bag. I grabbed the stuff on my nightstand that I used daily like my deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste, body spray, hair ties, and bobby pins. I then rummaged around my drawers looking for the old makeup bag that I hadn't used in over two years; I knew I was going to need something to cover up Daniel's handiwork to my face. My small wallet was also sitting on top of my dresser, so I pushed it in the bag as well.