The Girl in Black (Rewriting)

Chapter, 1

My life was shitty as hell.

And all I wanted was to run away from it but I was trapped—caged in my own thoughts, my beliefs and emotions.

I thought about running away; to be far away from this lifeless house and leave this body, but I couldn't bring myself to do either. It takes a lot of courage and cowardice and I had none.

But then, what did I have?

An abusive father, a photograph of a dead mother and a small house. Yes, I was complaining. I didn't like my life. I didn't want to live with the fear of speaking too loudly before my uncle. Of crying too loudly, for I missed my parents. For breathing too loudly as aliveness began leaving my body.

But I had one thing no one could take anything from me; hope.

And I decided to cling on it for life.

I stood up from the window sill after gazing at the sky long enough.

I dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I put my converse on and tied my hair into a pony tail. It's not that I chose to wear this , I had only these.

I wore my hoodie and took my bag from the table to rush downstairs. When I reached the ground floor, my father, with a body so fat that even the chair of the breakfast table coudn't accumulate him completely.

His drunken eyes stared at his phone as his hand ran on his bald head. He wore a strange ring on his middle finger, for the ring had no stone in it. It was just metal wrapped around the skin, leaving an empty place for a stone at the top.

My stomach's grumble took me out of my stance. I placed my hand on my stomach to muffle the sound but my dad had already heard it.

I stepped back as he snapped his blood-shot eyes to me, burning holes in my skin. 'You little piece of shit. Why the fuck didn't you tell me you came downstairs?'

'I ...' because I didn't want to ruin my day? 'I was about to.'

'Come here,' he gestured.

'No.' I swallowed. I didn't want anymore patterns of his fingers implanted on my face. The whole school would laugh at me, like they usually did.

His eyes zeroed on mine. Fear wrapped its fingers around my core. He stood up, the wooden floor creaked beneath his weight. He stumbled, and grabbing ahold of the railing, limped towards me. 'You,' he pointed at me, the metal of his ring gleamed under the only line of light entering through the broken glass of the tainted window, 'are coming back home. Don't you dare go wandering, you slut.'

I swallowed once again as he limbed further towards me. My eyes bolted to the door. Without any thought, I ran to the door and exited.

'Don't you fucking dare be late or I'll kill you!'

I just shrugged the shivers that ran down my body. He can't be serious, can he?

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I ddin't go to school that day.

Because I didn't want to be laughed at, or made fun of.

School was exactly a reflection of house. I was bullied, for being poor.