Drew Grier: A Broken Girl

Chapter 7

 (Here's a long update, sorry it took me forever, if you're reading this, ily. And just so you know, this is fiction, so it's all from my mind, I make it all up.)

 ~Drew's POV~

 I was sitting at home, a normal Friday night. School was getting on my nerves lately, teachers expect us to do mounds of work, and still have a social life. Are they crazy? I pushed my books out of the way, groaning. There were mountains on my bed.

 I clicked my ipod into it's stand, turning up the volume on the speaker. Not too loud, Nash in the next room over wouldn't hear at all. I let the notes, the voices, take me away into another land. Away from the stress.

 I was interrupted, the door to my room flew open. The ipod ripped from it's seams. His nostrils flared, teeth clenched, fists balled. I moved back, using the covers as a security blanket. “What did I say about music?!” He screamed, his voice nothing but monstrous.

 If the devil was real, he was right in front of me. George, also known as my Father. I could smell the alcohol on him, it radiated off of him. I grimaced, flinching in fear. Not again, I swore. “It corrupts minds into rebellion.” I stated, saying what I knew he'd want to hear. “It wasn't even loud.”

 “Yes it sure was. I passed by, and I heard it.” He spat.

 “So?” I asked, knowing that I'd pay for that.

 “So!? You know the rules.” He shouted. “You piece of shit! You think you can be like those petty pop stars? You're nothing.”

 He lunged at me, his body trying to engulf mine. His fists, plunged into my sides. The pain rippling through me. I tried, I squirmed, I did my best to fight back. The monster, his claws ripped into my skin, tearing me apart.

 I was broken, and bleeding. I kicked, it wasn't strong enough. I screamed, hoping for a savior, that maybe Nash would hear. Finally, he walked in, but he wasn't the hero he ought to be. He didn't tear the beast away from me, he fueled his fire.

 Nash's fists rammed into my already hurting body, and now, everything was going hazy. My own brother, taking his Father's reigns. George stepped back, watching, laughing as his son hurt me more and more with every punch until I was black and blue all over.

 There was a light in front of me, it whispered salvation from this hell I was in. I ran towards it, as fast as my wobbly feet could take me, until my past was nothing but a memory behind me. I don't know what the light was, but I needed it. And suddenly, it was ripped away, I felt it all coming back, the fists, the bruises.

 “No!” I screamed, “Get away from me.”

 ~

Two arms were shaking me awake, “Baby, you're okay.” He said, calming my tears. It was only a dream, “I've got you.”

 “You've got me.” I repeated, sighing into his body. The warm familiar one. He wiped away my tears, holding me as close as he could.

 “You're safe with me.” He said, and I knew, he was right.

 I took a deep breath, “I know.”

 “What happened?” He asked, not letting his grasp go on me go.

 “I was home, and I was in my room. All of a sudden my Dad came in, and started beating me. Nothing I wasn't used to, but this time. Nash came in, and he helped. Usually he would walk away, not acknowledge it at all. And at the end, I think I was dying, but then I came back, and he hurt me more and more and wouldn't stop.” I shuttered, my body shaking.