A Reason To Breathe (One Direction)

I have started this on Wattpad, but I think I want to start posting this on here, as well. Thanks!

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1. A Reason To Breathe

 

Hello, Everyone!!!

My name is Lily(:

First, thank you SOOOO much for reading, it really means a lot to me! This is my first Fanfic, so bare with me! Ermmm well this probably wont get too many reads, I am thinking maybe 10 readers? I will be so happy if I can even get 10..... HEHEHE I am SUPER happy!!! Oh, and I am American, so if I get any British terms wrong, just let me know! Well, Im not gonna bore you... so... Good luck and THANKS!!

Lil(: xx


WHAM!


The door slams closed. I count to thirty, the usual time it takes for him to lock the door.

Click.

And there is the familiar slide of the dead bolt (as if four locks isn't already enough to keep me in the house). I hear the screech of tires as he speeds down the street, heading to work. I silently reach up to to the door knob and gently twist the cold handle. A small sliver of light shines into my  "room." Well, actually it's just a closet. My dad makes me stay in here five days a week. I am NOT allowed to come out, ever. I am not really sure why, actually. Something like, he never wanted a daughter so it is easier not to see me at all. I slowly creak the door open and wait a few minutes as to make sure he is gone. I stiffly crawl out and stand up, stretching. I quietly creep towards the kitchen, glancing behind me ever so often, to make sure he actually HAD left, not just pretending to.

CRACK!

I set into panic mode, looking all around me. My heart is running a marathon in my chest. Is my dad still here? I feel an excrutiating pain in my left foot. I look down and there is a small pool of red around my foot. I almost faint out of relief, when I realise the cracking noiseI had heard a few moments before was just me. I had stepped on one of my dad's beer bottles that he had lazily left laying in the middle of the hall. Once I made sure the coast is clear, I let out a small wimper as I limp to the kitchen. Once I reach the sink, I run the warm water and gently start cleaning the wound. I slowly and carefully pull out all of the glass bits. I examined my cuts; they werent to awful. They were minor. I tenderly placed a bandage on the small wound, glancing around the room, sighing. I had made a mess.

After I had cleaned the crimson drops off of the floor and counters, I strolled over to the pantry. I yanked it open and searched through it, carefully taking the objects that could maintain my hunger. I settle for a bag of crisps, a water bottle, and two apples. Score! Two hours a day is the only time I get to actually eat during the week, while dad is at work. On the weekends, he lets me out so I can act like a maid, cooking and cleaning, and well, "satisfying his other needs..." I have to literally sneak around during these precious hours, because he will beat me if he catches me out here. I glance at the clock

12:56

An hour and three minutes until he gets home. I casually walk over to the telly. My finger reaches out to touch the switch, but stops. I hear the oh-to-familiar sound of his truck slamming. Crap!!! I had forgot! Yesterday was Daylight Savings, and I hadn't changed the clocks!!! I run as fast as my aching foot will allow, trying to keep my food in hand. I hurredly run back into my closet and pretend to sleep, cradling my precious meal.

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