Chapter 1: Beaten Senseless

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First Person POV 

We had recently moved into this new house that my pathetic excuse of a father forced me to live in. Though it was a beautiful house, I will never have beautiful memories here and it will never be home. I'll only be left with the ghosts of my past to keep me company. And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse in my life, he started dating this new rich, snobby woman who is now living with us. Bringing her stuck-up and conceited daughter with her. They are an exact replica of each other. The daughter is about my age and her mother is way out of my dad's league. And this is the family I've been forced to live with for many miserable years, and more yet to come.

Second Person POV

You woke up with a painful sore on your lower back. Probably from last night when you tripped over a pair of shoes that Bridget, Eileen's daughter, had left in the middle of the hallway when her room was literally two feet away. You struggled to get up but eventually, you pulled yourself out of bed and walked over to the bathroom. 

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. A bruise on the side of your cheek from when your father smacked you for forgetting to fold his laundry. Your eyes then fixated on the cut on your lip from Eileen's giant ass ring when she slapped you for not washing a bowl that was left in the sink. These two people were just sad pathetic drunken maniacs. You felt bad for them, but not that much though.

You stripped out of your pajamas and put on a different change of clean clothes. At least you were able to still do your laundry, which consisted mostly of black clothes. All you ever wore was black, dark grey's mixed with some dark shades of reds or blues. You washed your face and covered the cuts and bruises as best you could with some makeup. You glanced at yourself one last time before heading downstairs to make breakfast for the other three in the house who were still sleeping. 

You got the ingredients together and cooked the breakfast. You wiped down the table and counters so it would be clean for them when they came down. While you were putting away some dishes from last night, you noticed a cup you had placed on the table was now set on a counter you had just finished wiping off. You furrowed your brows and stared at the cup.

"That's odd. I could've sworn I just put that on the table. Maybe dad's beating me harder than I thought. Now I'm hallucinating." You took the cup and placed it next to Bridget's plate. That wasn't the first time weird things have happened in this house. It had happened multiple times before, especially when we first moved into this place. You went back to putting the final dishes away from the sink and closed the cupboard. Letting out a sigh of relief, you walked out of the kitchen. 

You heard heavy footsteps coming from upstairs. 'Oh no, He's up.'  You thought. You quickly ran up the stairs, skipping a few steps, and ran down the hall into your room. You pressed your ear up against the door and knew that those footsteps were your fathers. Holding your breath and crossing your fingers, you hoped he wouldn't bother coming into your room for a morning beating. Which occasionally happened. The footsteps of your father stopped for a second, making you start to worry, but then wander off down the stairs.

"Joel, wait for me!" Eileen shouted from their bedroom. Smaller footsteps ran after the bigger one's, followed by the sound of a door opening. Bridget. They all went downstairs to eat. You were relieved there would be no morning harassment today.

"Alright, now that that's over and done with, the only things I have to do before noon today is finishing Bridget's laundry, clean Eileen and Joel's room, and clean out the attic. Shouldn't be too bad. And since Joel has work today and Eileen and Bridget will be out today, I'll have the house to myself for a while." You were excited for a little alone time. Opening your door, you could hear that they were still eating breakfast. You took this chance to go into Bridget's room and grab her laundry. You quietly sped into the dark basement and started washing a load of laundry. You went back upstairs and started on the room.

(Time skip. After doing the laundry and cleaning the room.)

"(Y/N)! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW!" Joel shouted from the entryway. You dropped everything you were doing and sprinted down the stairs. When you got downstairs, you were confronted by your father and Bridget. Bridget wearing a yellow sundress under a jean jacket. Your father in his usual stained T-shirt and jeans. God, he was a slob. You felt the hairs on your neck stand up. But not from your father or Bridget. That gave you a different feeling. It had felt as if someone was watching you. You couldn't quite describe what you felt but it wasn't normal. "EXPLAIN THIS." He pointed to a vase that had been shattered on the ground.

"I don't know anything about what happened to that." You kept your head bent down.

"You are such a liar!" Bridget was the next to speak. "You obviously did it because you know how much my mother loves that vase."

You tried your best at defending yourself. "I swear, I had nothing to do with it. It wasn't me."

"Oh, sure, okay then. So you want us to believe it was just the wind that blew it over or maybe ghosts pushed it, huh?" Joel crossed his arms and looked sternly down at you.

"No, I-" You didn't get far into your sentence before being slapped across the face by your father. It was in the same place he had slapped the night before. You dropped to the ground by your stomach forcefully being kicked by your father's big boots, and once again on your side.

"CLEAN IT UP YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT." And he stormed outside and went off to work. You stayed there on the ground for a few moments until Bridget and her mother left you alone on the floor. After everyone vacated the house, you pulled yourself on your knees. You could feel yourself being watched again. You whipped your head behind you with an eyebrow raised. There was no one besides you. 

Then suddenly, you regretted your decision to turn your head around so quickly because you started hacking and coughing violently. Blood had started to come out of your mouth and onto the floor. You got up off the ground and went into the kitchen, holding a glass under the faucet and gulping down glasses upon glasses of water. You sucked in a deep breath and let it out, still breathing hard from the coughing fit.

"Blood and water are not a good mix." You said to yourself. You felt like puking but tried your best to keep it down so as not to make your stomach any worse. You bent down under the sink and grabbed the mini broom and dustpan. You went over to where the vase was at the bottom of the stairs and started sweeping when you noticed something sitting on top of a broken piece of ceramic. It looked to be a business card of some type that your father could have possibly dropped. All it says is "Betelgeuse – Bio-exorcist"? There's no number or e-mail on it. You squinted your eyes in confusion but put it in your back pocket anyway. 

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