Life Changed Forever (A Lesbian Story)

Chapter 1: Dad

You looked at your phone as you approached your house. 11:47pm. Shit. You were supposed to be home by 11.  You opened the door. It was dark in the house except for one light from the kitchen. Carefully, you walked to the staircase across from the living room. If you were quiet enough, you could sneak up to your room unnoticed. You were halfway up the steps when you hear him.

"You're late," your dad says. You freeze as fear begins to creep in. Your heart beats faster. You hated his voice.

"Come here." His voice is louder. You turn around and see him standing there, anger in his eyes and a bottle in his hand. You quickly blink away the tears as you step towards him. You know what was about to happen next.

You step in front of him. He just stares at you. You can smell the alcohol on him. He's drunk. What else is knew? All you can do is look down. You can't stand to look him in the eyes. It feels as if hours pass while he just looks at you with pure disgust and hatred. He lifts his arm as you cringe, preparing for impact.

It was not uncommon for him to hit you. In fact, you considered it a good day when you finally got to bed with two beatings at the most. You never did anything wrong, but in your fathers eyes, your existence alone was a good enough reason to hit you.

You shut your eyes tight as his hand made contact with your cheek. You let out a cry of pain. "You worthless, irresponsible piece of shit!" He shouted. He hits you again, this time harder. "When I give you a curfew I expect you to follow it!" He hits you for a third time with enough force to knock you to your knees. Tears inevitably escape your eyes as you cover your red, throbbing cheek. All you can mufflle out is a shaky "I'm sorry" over and over. He grabs the back of your neck and slams your face onto the hardwood floor. You know he's talking but you barely make out what he's saying. He grabs your neck again but you're too weak to fight back. His grip is tight as he smashes your face against the floor one last time. You can finally make out what he's saying. "Worthless."

He throws his empty bottle at you and walks back into the kitchen. You lay on the floor, sobbing. You feel so helpless, so lonely, so worthless. You try to stand up but you're so weak. You bring you hand up to your face. Your nose is bleeding and sore, but you don't think it's broken. The tears keep falling. They burn as the roll down your swollen cheek. You continue to lay there until the pain becomes somewhat tolerable. Finally, you manage to pull yourself up with the little strength you had. You crawled up the stairs and into the bathroom. As you examine yourself in the mirror, another tear escapes. "I'm a mess." You think. You look at the bruises on your cheek and nose. Great. How am I gonna exlain this one at school next week? Oh well, you have the weekend for it to heal. Thank God tomorrow is Saturday. Saturday means your dad at work and you at home.

You clean up your bloody nose, wash your face, and crawl into your bed. You put on your headphones and turn the volume up all the way. You slowly drift off to sleep listening to your favorite artist, Demi Lovato.