Letting Go

After being brutally abused by her father and outcasted by her classmates, seventeen year old Keller Alvidas is glad and even relieved to spend her last year at Edge-of-The-World, the sleepy small town she grew up in. Everything changes when the Gabriels, a group of orphaned teenage boys arrives. They break all her rules about meeting new people but they too have secrets and when the truth comes out Keller has to decide wether to let go and save herself or to continue to be dragged through everything she wanted to run away from, all for one chance she might never get.

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1. From The Start

I fling the window open and the sweet tuberose summer air invades the room, inviting me out. The front door slams loud enough to hear through my closed one and heavy feet wander through the kitchen. Bad day of gambling, I thought, as if we don't have finacial problems already. The cracks snaking up the ceiling of my bedroom seem to smile up at me in a mocking agreement. My father, Gerald, throws the fridge door open, his millions of wine bottles clanking together. He grabs one and his already intoxicated body starts making it's way towards my room. I won't be able to study for school with him beating the crap out of me. I remember the last time he lost a large sum of money gambling. Bruised cheekbone, twisted ankle, couple of broken bones. Luckily Mr.Nozell believed that I fell down the stairs, again. If I don't go now, he will hurt me.

"Keller open up now!" he slured. I panic, he must've lost a lot of money this time.

"Keller, open this door now or-" I don't get to hear the last of his threat because I scramble to get my books. The fists pounding against the door get louder. Panic sets in and the fear spikes my adrenaline and that's what  propells me to finally jump out my window and  into the tuberose sweet summer air.

 

After I escape the house, tears start forming in my eyes. I push them back but it's no use. By the time I reach the library I've fully given up on trying not to cry as the tears stream down my face to the point where people start to stare though that's nothing new. I furiously open my textbook and turn the table lantern on. Five more years, I say over and over again in my head. Just five more years until I get accepted to University in London and I leave my stupid "family" and go far away from here, all without attracting attention to myself, any more than I already get. I sigh and dry up my eyes and get lost in the history of Britain's fur trade for my history test tomorrow.

 

I nervously walk home that day. I play with the multiple scars criss-crossing my forearms in a way that should hurt but oddly doesn't. I keep my head down and avoid the eyes of other kids my age  on their front lawns  playing with their friends as they whisper and giggle at my appearance. I decide to be bold. I stop dead in front of them and stare them straight in the eyes, giving my best impression of a killer glance as I can. Their eyes widen and they turn around, too shocked to speak. I quickly walk up to my front door, a smile playing on my lips at their shocked expression. The door is slightly ajar and I can smell the alcohol waft through the air. I wrinkle my nose at the smell. I tentatively walk inside to see my dad passed out onto the table. I walk around him.

"Where were you last night?" he asks suddenly awake.

"I was studying last night," I reply calmly. Something about my expression irritates him as it does everytime I see him.

"Liar, don't you lie to your father!" he gets up and roars. He grabs the collar of my old white button-up I'm wearing now.

"I was studying, I swear," I say inching my face away from his.

"I saw you with that group of people yesterday. You were there, weren't you. Tell the truth, you were with a bunch of hooligans last night!" he yells in my face. I mutter something quietly. "What was that?" he yells again.

"I said they were making fun of me! Gosh, they were making fun of my clothes, which you don't buy me buy the way-" I say.

"Liar, you have 2 jobs, you have money -" he starts angrily.

"No, I don't! You use all my money to pay off your gambling debts!"

"You don't need new clothes anyways, the ones you have now are fine."

"I've had this for 3 years dad! But you wouldn't know, would you. You can't get your head out of the damn wine bottle long enough to notice!"  I know that I've gone too far but the words pour out, "Even when mom was sick in the hospital, you didn't give a damn. All you care about is drinking and gambling!" My dad's hands return to their sides and I retreat to the side of the table next to the wall and slump against it, scared. I can feel a storm coming. His eyes looked like red hot fire when they were dangerously close to mine. I see his feet shuffling over to me and he looks down at me, almost pityingly but I stop myself from thinking that, he's only ever had pity and compassion for himself. He drags me up by the throat and I try to scream but I only make a strangled noise under his punishing grip. I scratch and claw at his hands but it's like he doesn't even feel them. He finally throws me down and I gulp for air and quickly scramble up knowing his feet are no more friendly than his hands. Out of nowhere I feel his fist bang into my eyesockets and I know both of them will be black by this evening. Suddenly my dad grabs a hammer from the side of the table and before I even know what's happening he's using it to crush my arm, attempting to grind bone to dust. It hurts too much, I scream and moan until my voice seems raw. He finally stops as if he only just realizes the amount of damage he's done. My arm is is sagging in the middle and it's already black and blue. A sob escapes me as he walks away into the kitchen. I fall onto the floor crying and cradling my badly damaged arm against me.

"Don't you dare try to pin your mother's death on me," he throws me back up and punches me in the mouth, "And I'll break your mouth so you can't tell lies."

I broken and exhausted and hurting everywhere, "You deserve to get pinned for mom's death. Your gambling lost us money, money we needed for mom's surgery," I say with a husky voice.

He lets out a strangled cry. I look up into the eyes of this monster and I see sorrow, true repentence. But just like that it's gone again and his eyes are only full of fury. He walks into the kitchen and I hear him take several gulps of drink before returning back out, something bright and shining in his hand. I attempt crawl back with my good arm but he's too quick. Gerald Alvidas, my torturer, my father is carrying a knife. He grabs my face, I scream.

"Lying is a sin and you will wear that sin on your face," He says quietly.

The blade cuts deep. And I don't stop screaming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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