A lost and found little (DON'T LIKE IT DON'T READ)

Chapter 1

This book will be in third person and in character views, that being said this will mostly be in Eliza's view and in third person view.
Enjoy the story and tell me what you think and in time I'll ask what you think should happen, possibly adding a bad ending and a good ending version of the book but seeing as this is my first book I think I'll have a bit of fun with this.
don't forget to comment. I can't read minds.

ELIZA'S POV

I lower my shirt after assessing the damage and I stumble over boxes as I start making my way towards the stairs.
I quietly walk up the stairs worried about what my parents would do to me if they see me leave the basement, but then realize that they left for their jobs, and won't be back until tonight.

(I know what your thinking, I should just leave, I'm over 18 I can just go, right?
Wrong, by law, of course, I can leave but with my father being a cop and my mother having a lot of friends in the lawyer's office they managed to somehow declare me mentally unfit to make it on my own and they get paid to have me in their custody.
On the bright note, I know they won't kill me but some things are worse than death in my opinion.)

I let out a sigh of relief once I'm certain my parents are gone I speed up and wince as I feel my injuries, but this has been happening for six months, so right now I don't care and just want out.
I reach the door and open it to reveal a bright white light cursing myself for opening it too quickly.
As I let my eyes adjust I take note of my surroundings and notice the futon flipped over along with broken beer bottles across the living room floor, I roll my eyes at the sight and enter the living room.
I look over at the clock and realize that I was unconscious for 12 hours. 

"Great another thing for my parents to beat me for" I groan.

I quickly shake off my dread saving it for later and I leave the living room and head upstairs to my old bedroom and enter it, seeing everything was left where it was and I whimper as I see my blood in the corner from two days ago.

I shake my head not wanting to remember right now, and I head to my closet to pull out my hidden backpack with a few days worth of clothing food and water.
I skipped a few days of food to stash this the day I was dragged to the basement.

(Yes food, they at least made sure I ate once every so often, mostly their scraps but food is food.)

Anyway, I quickly make sure my shoes are packed and ready for tonight.

(Quick note, when it comes to pain and nervousness I tend to get sarcastic and joke to cover it and it just happens, at the very least it brings a little bit of comfort to me so please don't take my sarcasm as being heartless or something. I really do care and a lot of this is based on my actual life. and if any of you is being abused or hurt let someone you trust know they can help you trust me I know.) 

I quickly hide my bag after stuffing some more things I'll need and my best friend Coco my stuffed cat toy that my big brother Jackson gave me before he died.
We were always so close back when my parents actually loved me, and we would hang out all the time and during family movie nights I would always fall asleep on his lap.
Jackson would chuckle and carry me to my room, but as he would set me down.
I would always whine and stir until he gave up and took me to his room and I would go back to sleep cuddled into him.

Like all good stories or a lot of good stories Flashback! 

1 am, the perfect time to see my brother, I giggle quietly as I sneak across the hall to Jack's room.
I open the door and I see Jack sleeping on his back. 

"Aww how peaceful," I think to myself grinning like the Cheshire cat from my favorite movie Alice in wonderland. 

I quickly enter his room and shut his door so as not to wake our parents, and I shuffle over to his bed quietly making sure I hear his quiet snores before I do anything, then I climb onto his nightstand.