The Cowboy Saved Me

Got to get away

"Miss Jackson" I looked up from my desk to my teacher, and saw that we were the only one in the class. "Miss Jackson can I have your paper?" I looked down to the blank paper that I was supposed to write something about history on.

"I'm sorry Mr. Blake I didn't write anything" I whispered ashamed of myself for losing track of time. I remembered that I had to get home before my father today.

"I-I'm s-sorry Mr. Blake but I have t-to get h-home" I jumped up from my seat and grabbed my things. I ran out of school and down the street. If I didn't make it home before my father I was done.

Making it to my house I ran in and started cooking. But there no such a thing as luck in my world. My father walked into the house slamming the door.

"Scar where is my dinner" my father screamed walking into the kitchen. "I'm j-just starting it now" my father looked mad. "When I come home I expect the dinner to be ready" before I could say anything my dad grabbed my hair.

"I-I'm s-sorry" I stuttered trying to remove my hair from his grasp. That only made him mad because he held onto my hair and punched me right in the gut. I screamed out in pain and fell to the ground.

"This is all your fault. Your the reason your mother is dead" he kicked me over and over again until he got tired. He grabbed my arm and twisted it till I screamed. He definitely sprained it. He pulled me by that arm up to my room. The pain was not good. I felt like I was going to faint and my stomach was killing me.

I was thrown into my room and I hit my desk. I grabbed the scissors and held them up to my father. He had a wicked smile on his face as he stood there.

"Scar what do you think you are doing" I spit some of the blood from my mouth out to the side and stared daggers at my father. Never in my life did I think I would I think I would be standing up against him.

Once my mother died my father had started beating me. I got used to the pain and the screaming but for some reason I wanted to fight back. A part of me always felt bad for my father because he had lost the love of his life...but then I remember that he had killed her.

"Standing up for myself...isn't that what you used to tell me" I asked shrugging my shoulders.

"Scar put that down right now" he hissed. I lunged forward only to have them knocked out of my hand. He pushed me to the floor and held me down.

"You're a monster you killed my mother" I screamed kicking and squirming around. I felt a slap on my cheek and I whimpered in pain. He was holding me by my sprained arm. I saw the scissors in front of me and I reached for them.

When I got to them I brought them up to his face only to have him grab the hand I had them in. We struggled with them both trying to get them out of each other's hands.

"I hate you" I screamed kicking him but it did not phase him. He had a grip on my hand and I felt him cut my stomach with the scissors. I let the tears come out and tried to get away.

This time I had the advantage I kicked him where the sun does not shine. "You bitch" he screamed rolling on the floor. I took my chance and got up almost falling back down from the pain in my stomach. I ran out of the room and down the stairs. I got to the door and heard my dad screaming my name.

Before I could open the door I was pulled back and thrown to the side. I tried to crawl away but he grabbed my legs and pulled me back I grabbed the only thing I could...an empty beer bottle.

He wrapped his hands around my neck cutting my air supply off. "I gave you everything and this is how you repay me" Those were the same words he said to my mother the day that she died. I smashed the bottle on his head having him collapse on me. I pushed him off of me and looked down on him.

This was the monster who killed my mother. The one I used to call dad. I ran back up to my room grabbed a bag and started packing. I saved up 3000 dollars from work so I should be able to get a bus ticket. Believe me it was hard hiding that from him.

I grabbed some cloths and photos of me and my mom. I put my jeans and my black Jacket on with my gray converse. I grabbed my tooth brush, hair brush and anything else that I could fit in a bag.

I could hear my father moaning which meant that he was getting up from the hit I just gave him. I went to my window and took one last look at my room. "Goodbye" I whispered turning around and jumping out the window. I got to the end of the roof and jumped onto the tree that was there.

I slipped when I felt the pain in my arm but I managed to stay on. When I hit the ground I ran as fast as I could trying to forget about the pain in my stomach.

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Ok so I know it's a little crazy, but she made it out...who has ever zoned out in a class before? If you did then let me know what class. Mine was my 5 grade social studies teacher... the flashbacks still hunt me of that class.