His Heart (COMPLETED)

Chapter one: Kill Her

My parents were abusers.

No, they didn't die by a disastrous accident or car crash. They just used to take out all their financial problems emotionally and physically on me. Every night was worse than the last. They used to use all these wonderful tools on me that left either permanent or temporary marks all over my body except my face.

And you know what the sick part of this whole predicament is, is that each morning it will be the picture perfect family at breakfast. My 'parents' would greet me with a smile plastered on their faces. Both drinking their morning cup of coffee, dad reading the newspaper whilst mum butters herself a lovely slice of jam on toast. I would walk down our narrow staircase gripping on the cold steel railing, trying my best not to appear weak in front of them.

Every morning when I sat down on the dining room table, one saying used to play in my head, a saying that used to keep me going, a saying that used to be my only motivation to get up in the morning. It went something like this: "If people are strong enough to put you down, show them that you are strong enough to get back up."

The sad part of this story is that it never always used to be like that. Believe it people; it used to be sunshine and rainbows at one point in my little life. The abusing only started when I reached the age of 7. My first slap to the face was heartbreaking because no one wants it coming from the person you look up to. The only other women in the house, my mother. My father who watched the whole scene take place stood and watched not saying a word as my mother screamed at me that night. At the end of my mother's ear-piercingly long dialogue, my father uttered four very simple words. Words that I never believed could be uttered so coldly. "Go to your room." After that very eventful night (sarcasm intended) the nights got worse.

My father started to participate in the beatings and hateful words directed to me because apparently, I was the cause of all their financial problems. I was the trigger to our approaching bankrupts. They said it was because they had to also take care of me and all the school fees started to add up. And for a whole year I believed them, I started to starve myself, I even sometimes excepted the abuse. Telling myself that; I am the cause of my parent's despair, but then again that was the mind of an 8 and a half-year-old Isabella, right?

Until one day I opened our small mini fridge to get a refreshing glass of milk, but instead of the milk, I found alcohol, stacks of alcohol. Then it hit me. I wasn't the cause of it at all; they just wanted money to get drunk. They never used to work; they used to spend their lives getting wasted in clubs and bars.

It's gruesome and really devastating that these two people were a pathetic excuse for parents.

The day came when it became too much. I was huddled in the corner in complete terror as I watched my parents scream at me. I was numb. their words seemed deaf to me. Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours. It was until my father said two words that I dreaded the most that. It instantly made my stomach churn and vision blur. Those words killed any hope that I had for my parents ever going back to normal that was buried deep.

"Kill her."

Before anything could happen, my neighbour, Elana Prescot rushed through the door with the police in tow. After that, I didn't hear a thing as all I could see was black spots surrounding me before I completely blacked out.

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YAASSS First chapter done

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