Hell's Daughter (GirlxGirl) (Lesbian Story)

Chapter Three

I abruptly woke up, shivering. I was naked with the covers kicked off of the bed during one of my frequent nightmares. My diary was lying beside my head, my entry from last night smudged from tears. I wouldn't be surprised if I caught pneumonia from being wet, naked and cold.

A shudder ripped through me and I got up quickly, soon realising my feet were so cold they were numb and it hurt to walk. I hopped painfully towards the shower where I gratefully sank under the hot waterfall.

I stood there for a minute, relishing in the warmth before my gaze focussed on the forgotten razor lying on the shower tiles.

Should I do it?

The urge to cut wasn't as strong, probably because I had written in my diary the night before, so I picked the razor up and put it back into its holder. I was feeling slightly triumphant for not letting the blade tempt me for once.

I quickly washed my hair and got out of the shower, drying myself off, trying not to think about having to go back to school and seeing Mary's cocky face. I shuddered and went into my room. I didn't hear the tell-tale signs of my mum and her new boy toy, which must mean she was asleep. I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly walked to my wardrobe, throwing on the first pieces of clothing I saw. Seeing as I was bullied just for breathing, I didn't see the point of making myself look nice.

I packed my diary up and shoved it hastily under my bed before walking downstairs.

When I went into the kitchen, I was met with a very unpleasant sight. My mum's boyfriend for the week was sitting at the dining room table, holding a cup of coffee. He had a very satisfied smirk on his face. I held back a nasty retort, and swallowed my sudden anger. I wanted to slap that smile off of his face.

How dare he come into this house and act like he owns it? How dare him!?

I kept my emotions off of my face and stiffly nodded at him, while thinking of how many different ways I could torture him. Kicking him in the balls so hard that he would never be able to use them again sounded like the best idea.

He coughed loudly, bringing me out of my gruesome, yet terribly amusing thoughts. He didn't say anything except look pointedly at me while I made some toast. I wasn't really that hungry, but I was weak from last night's cutting, so I had to eat something for fear of fainting at school.

"Yes?" I said rudely, sick of his eyes staring at me.

"How about making me a little something, hmm?" he said and I was suddenly filled with such rage, it took self-control to not walk over to him and punch that stupid face in.

"How about you do that yourself, hmm? You have legs, make it yourself," I answered turning around to get the toast that had popped up. He was silent for a moment before getting up and grabbing my wrist. I whipped around and glared at him; his dark eyes were flashing angrily.

"Hey, let go of me!" I shouted trying to get free of his grip, only for him to hold tighter.

"You will not speak like that to me again, you hear? As long as I'm under this roof, you will do whatever I say, do you understand?"

His grip was getting tighter, and I was actually afraid my wrist would break. I nodded grimly and he grinned triumphantly. He leaned down to my ear and I shuddered with disgust. My mother had picked some awful boyfriends but never one who would hurt me.

"As long as I'm screwing your mum, you are mine," he whispered lowly. I felt something tighten in my stomach at his words.

"I will never be yours," I hissed and with that, I gave him a deserved kick in the groin. He grunted and immediately let go of me to grip himself. He was groaning on the floor and I felt powerful. I hated him, I hated my mother and I hated my life. I wanted to take out all the misery I felt on him. I wanted to kick him and punch him until he never moved again.