The Abandoned Lovers

-12-

Chapter 12 - It's Time

We all have something. That's what people say, whether it be a family, a hand, an eye, a home, a fear. We all have something that somebody else in the world doesn't have.

Most people take that for granted; They say they're just like the others but no, that's what makes us unique. I have a fear of my dad, spiders, any being with more than four legs. Unless it's an alien, we all love aliens.

But you know what, that one thing that I have makes me unique.

I walk through the cold snow that reaches about to my ankles, soaking my frozen cold feet as I walk home. With each step I take it gets colder and colder until my feet are numb and I start walking a little faster.

I've always loved the snow, it's beautiful. I remember when I was younger and I would get all ready in a beautiful jacket and boots, a scarf and a hat, some jeans that would get soaked and frozen.

Then I would run outside and play with my sister, making snowmen and throwing snowballs while my mom made us hot cocoa and I put some weird concoction of whipped cream, marshmallow, and chocolate on top of them.

My sister would come in and we'd watch football with my dad while drinking our hot cocoas.

Brooklyn, I love you.

I miss that. I miss being happy. I haven't genuinely smiled a smile that wasn't fake in so long.

I step into the porch, the only thing free of snow that I've been on in a while, I take off my shoes and socks. Waiting for them to at least freeze before I take them in so they don't track in snow or water.

I walk in, still freezing in such cold weather with no blankets allowed. For me at least. My dad sits by a fire, the fire wood from a tree he cut down earlier. His stuff lying everywhere.

"Clean this up and make me food, but I want something sweet. But not desert, still a dinner." He says, pausing a minute before he turns towards me stiffly his eyebrows furrowed.

"Also," He looks me up and down with a scowl on his face, "it's time." He says disgusted as he looks at me.

"Okay sir." I say before walking over to the kitchen, my feet and most of my body frozen from the walk home.

I look through the fridge at what we have before settling on something similar to an apple pie except a little different so he won't think it's an apple pie. There aren't many sweet dinners.

As I took out some dough as quickly as possible and put it in a makeshift pie pan, I start cleaning up around the place so he doesn't think I'm more of a waste of time.

I chop some apples, putting in some water, cinnamon, and brown sugar before putting it in the oven. I finish the cleaning and take it out of the oven, cutting it weirdly so my dad doesn't think it is an apple pie.

I put some pecans on it and brown sugar before putting it where he normally sits and going up to him quietly but making sure he can hear me coming as to not startle him.

"Your dinner is ready." I say and he grumbles something before getting out from under his blanket and going to the kitchen. He slowly takes a bite, showing no emotion as the flavor hits him.

"It's... fine I guess. Tastes like mushy apples with sugar. I'll eat it, because I kind of like it but if you make it and I don't want it I'll beat your ass." He says, pointing at me with his fork.

He takes another bite but when I turn to leave the kitchen to cut my hair before the inspection he painfully grabs my arm as I walk by. He holds on until the food in his mouth has been swallowed before he looks at me with a painfully eerie look.

"Stay here, don't go cut your hair now." He chuckles, "it makes it more exciting when you really don't want it." He pauses taking another bite, this time not stopping to swallow the food as he spits it on my face.

"Don't think I forgot winter break you ugly ass, I can hit your face for the first time in a while and oh is it sweet." He says, an ugly evil smirk perched on his face.

I gulp, the fact that my face will be showing though means that he won't make me go to the store in the cold weather though, right? Stay optimistic.

I sit in the ground at his feet, waiting for him be done. His chewed up food on the the ground in front of me that I'll have to pick up. I quickly pick it up and move it to the garbage before washing my hands.

"Don't use the water, it costs money." He spits out and I rub my hands on my jeans before returning to his feet until he is done and I have to wash his plate and fork.

I quickly do so and stand in front of him, my hands at my sides and my back straight. "Okay," He starts standing up rubbing his greasy hands on his jeans, "First thing, your hair is too long." He growls out with a smirk on his face before punching me in the face.

My legs wobble from the harsh blow before I rearrange myself and stand in front of him again, my lip busted and bleeding openly down my face.

Half of my face stings with pain as he circles me, he soon hits me again. Hard. I look at him directly as if asking with my eyes what I did wrong.

"Just for fun." He says giving me an evil smirk that seems to always be perched in his face when I'm in pain. I cough as he punches my stomach more and more, punching my face a couple times too.

"Oh, I love this!" He says chuckling. He shakes his head as he pats me on the shoulder, "Okay go cut your hair now." He says and I nod as I go up he stairs to my room.

Catching falling blood from my mouth in my hands.

I get up there and rest with my head bowed to look at the sink as I cough up some blood. It drips slowly, thickly down the drain before I wash it down.

I dry my face on my sleeve, that's why I wear black. I cut my hair to my collarbones, though I want long hair so badly. A bruise starts to form on my cheek as I lay in my bed, sorrow filling my senses.

This is what it is now.

----------

A couple days later

----------

A knock on the door makes the knife I was holding drops from my hands, cutting my finger. I go over to the doorway, not opening the door while my dad yells at me.

"You can't do anything I'll fucking chop the whatever the fuck it is by myself." My dad says as he starts to chop the green onions on the cutting board for the steak I'm making him.

I open the door quickly, looking at the person.

Of course.

Kingston stands in front of me, as the door opens he looks forward expectantly a phone in his hands with a smile on his face. That smile quickly fades though as he takes in my appearance. His blonde hair falls in front of his eyes as he furrows his eyebrows and his nose starts twitching.

And that's when I realize, the bruises are still there,

and I did not cover them up.