✒ Chapter 3 ✒

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Song: PRETTYMUCH - Teacher

(I just wanted to say that Zion looks so FREAKING ADORABLE on this song.)

A/N: Guys please vote for my stuff and follow me. When you do it makes me feel like I'm doing something right.
Who added my story to their reading list? I'm just curious. Also, my story is almost at 300 reads which makes me unbelievably happy. Thank you guys for reading my stuff! I know it doesn't seem like a lot, but this is my first story so I am kind of really happy.

AND NOW WE MEET ZION!!!!!

~~~ Chapter Begins ~~~

A sound outside my room door wakes me up.

Sitting up, I rub my eyes and try to listen for more.

After a few moments when I hear nothing, I lay back down to go to sleep.

But then I hear the noise again.

And then... "Mia!" Called an angry, slurred voice from the door.

"Where's my dinner?!" I immediately paled. I had been so tired, I forgot to cook something.

All of a sudden my room door bursted open. "What? No answer?" He said, a cold smile playing on his face. He knew full well that I couldn't speak, he just loved to taunt me.

'No, daddy! Please don't do this to me! I thought you loved me. I didn't do anything wrong." I signed frantically. Back before my dad had become an abusive alcoholic, he actually was really caring and he learned sign language with me as a means of support.

My father walked toward me slowly, his intentions clear in his eyes.

"Do you know what i am going to do?"

I did.

He was going to beat me. Again.

But I had a feeling this one would be worse.

He looked angrier.

"Get over here!"

| ~ | • | ~ |

I pushed down the long sleeve to my shirt as I stared at myself in the mirror.

How could I let it get so far?

I used to be so happy.

What happened?

A dead mother happened.

A dead mother and a dead sister and brother.

Sighing I left the bathroom, wincing as the bruises were still sore.

I ran a hand through my surprisingly soft hair, wincing again.

My hair came from my mother and had been one of my favorite traits. It was soft and silky and so easy to deal with.

But my father decided he didn't like it so he pulled it, trying to rip it off my head.

Thank God it didn't work.

| ~ | • | ~ |

Briiiiing!

I hopped up as the bell rang to go to class.

It was only the first period and I had been so happy that I was a long way home.

When I'm home, I'm hurt, when I'm at school, I'm safe. Or I'd like to think I am.

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