The Broken (Short Story)

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

My father grabs me by my arm, and yanks my backpack off of me.

"Where the hell were you? I've been gone for three days and you're already out doing god knows what! And don't even try telling me you were at school. Its nearly 7!" He growls at me, his face centimeters away from mine. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. Great.

"I was working on a project at my p-partner's house! We have to watch movies and wr-" I try to tell him, but that only results in another slap.

"Oh don't use that bullcrap with me!" You were out with some boy weren't you! I always knew you were a whore!"

"No! I-I wasn't with a guy! I was working on a school assignment, I swear!" I plead, but it's no use. My dad gets even more angry, I know I'm in for it now. He yanks my arms and throws me to the ground. I give up trying to put up a fight. If I do I know that it will just make things worse for me in the end.

"Don't talk back to me!" In one swift motion he swings his foot at me and kicks me in the ribs. I scream, and start gasping for air. That's going to leave a big bruise.

"You think that you can lie to me and that I wouldn't find out! Think again!" He kicks me again, with even more force. I start to cry.

"I guess I have to punish you for lying to me!" He screams.

My eyes widen. "No, please! I'm sorry! It won't happen again, I promise!" I cry out, in one final attempt to stop him. He doesn't listen. He never does.
My father hovers over me, and punches my in the face. I swear I heard something crack. Stars begin to cover my vision. I scream out even louder, and the metallic taste invades my mouth. Do my neighbors not hear me? My vision starts to fade in and out of blurriness.

My father gets off of me, and pulls me up so that we are level.

"That will teach you. Now, clean up this mess. If you mess up again, you will not like what will happen to you. Understood?"

I nod vigorously, and he lets go of me. I immediately stumble back and grab onto the wall, trying to keep myself up. My strength is almost completely gone. Why does this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?

I stumble to my bathroom to get myself cleaned up. I nearly gasp when I look I the mirror. The side of my face is completely caked in blood, more than likely from when my Dad punched me. I inspect my teeth. None of them seem to be broken or missing, which is a good thing. My right cheek is already bruising terribly, a combination of when my dad slapped my in the doorway and from when he punched me. The pain is almost unbearable.

Silent tears run down my face as I move on to my ribs. My dad kicked me twice, yet I can tell that none of my ribs are broken. Swollen, yes. Bruised, yes. But not broken. My body is very weak and frail, so I would imagine that they would be broken, but they aren't.

I cover my ribs up in a stretchy bandage wrap so that I don't injure them any more than they already are. Slowly I walk back into the living room after grabbing the cleaning supplies necessary for cleaning the blood-stained carpet.

My dad was nowhere in sight. I stumble towards the window and look outside. His car is in the driveway. How the heck did I not notice it when I was walking into the house. Looking back on it, I guess I was just stuck in my thoughts.

I clean up the rest of the blood and start working on the rest of the house. My dad came out from his room a few times to comment about how 'badly' I suck at cleaning, but he didn't physically attack me. If he did I probably wouldn't be able to get back up.

After cleaning the house to my father's unrealistic standards, I decide to get in the shower. As soon as I take off my shirt I immediately want to put it back on. The sight is enough to make a squeamish person faint. The bruises on my stomach seem to have gotten a billion times worse. My neck was bruised as well, I realize. You can faintly make out hand marks on it from when my dad was choking me. Guess I'm wearing scarves for the rest if the week. Joy.