Calling CPS wouldn't help; all that would do is separate Joey and I. I won’t let that happen. I can take a few beatings from George for my brother. I’m sixteen, two more years and Joey and I will be living on our own. Why don’t we just leave now? George has threatened me if I leave. That he would find us and he would make Joey pay. He said I would regret it. So I’m waiting until I’m eighteen and have enough money saved up to get far away from him. I already have about a grand saved but I need way more than that to get away. We’ll need new identities. George is friends with a lot of cops that’s why he hasn't been reported. Joey is eight years old; this shouldn't be happening to him. This isn't fair to him, when I was his age I was happy, my parents loved me. He doesn't deserve to be hit, he hasn't and he won’t.


2. Chapter Two

When I finally got to the driveway I was out of breathe and had my hands on my knees. I had been wearing shorts and was grateful, it was so hot out. I’m not one of those emo kids that wear all black. Sure I like black but I don’t really like people knowing that I cut. Just because you wear black doesn't mean that you do, but I don’t like giving people any hints. I don’t want anyone’s pity, damn it. At the moment, I’m wearing an aqua long sleeved v neck with jean shorts. I guess a lot of cutters cut their legs. Not me, my legs are the only decent thing I have other than my boobs. Let’s just say my boobs get the boys going. I guess you could say I have kind of an ass. It isn't huge but not flat which I’m fine with. My mother used to tell me I was beautiful. But that was before everything happened. Before my dad became a drunk, before he hit me. Before he would stumble into my room drunkily, pushing me to the bed with a bottle of scotch in his hand and start touching me in places a father should never.  We used to be your average American family; Mom, Dad, Joey and me.

Joey’s my little brother and also my only source of happiness at the moment. Joey is just a lovable kid all around. He’s extremely polite, you could push him down and he would apologize for making you angry. It’s not always a good thing how well-mannered he is. He has the goofiest laugh and a smile that’ll melt your heart. He has chocolate chip brown eyes with light brown hair. I don’t let him anywhere near George. George is- used to be my father. I refuse to call him that anymore.  So he goes to his friend’s house all day when I’m at work then usually I pick him up and we go straight upstairs. George only feeds himself and my mother partially. He likes to keep her slim. 

George has threatened me if I leave. That he would find us and he would make Joey pay. He said I would regret it. So I’m waiting until I’m eighteen and have enough money saved up to get far away from him. I already have about a grand saved but I need way more than that to get away. We’ll need new identities. George is friends with a lot of cops that’s why he hasn't been reported.  Joey is eight years old; this shouldn't be happening to him. This isn't fair for him, when I was his age I was happy, my parents loved me. He doesn't deserve to be hit, he hasn't and he won’t.

Whenever Joey accidentally makes a mistake I take the blame. I always will. George will never lay a hand on him. He doesn't get off the hook though; I go up later and talk to him about what he did. I’m not going to yell at him, what will that do? Make him cry and hate me? I don’t understand why parents don’t just sit down and talk to their children making sure they know what it is they did was wrong. Yelling always makes things worse.

I glance at my watch and see that it’s already 4 o’clock. Joey is most likely waiting upstairs for me in his room; I better hurry before he tries to come downstairs. George is most likely drunk. I am really not looking forward to seeing him but Joey needs me. I take a deep breath and walk up the driveway. Home sweet home. I stopped and looked up at the house remembering the memories I had made here. The old rope that used to hold a tire swing on the old oak was now long gone. As a child my parents would always push me and we’d all have a laugh.

The tree was now just a painful reminder of what I'd lost. The grass wilted and yellow used to spring to life during summer when mom, dad, and I would jump through the sprinkler laughing. My eyes fell on the old swing on the porch. It was old and needed painted desperately but it had meant so much to me. Everyday George would come home from work stressed and I would wait for him there. Once I saw him I would run and hug him yelling “Daddy!” His eyes would light up and he would drop his suitcase running to me. “Sissy!” He would swing me around and I would tell him how much I had missed him. The worst thing about all of this was I used to be such a daddy’s girl. We would fall asleep on the couch watching old cartoons and I would wake up and he was already at work. I would cry and cry and mom would try and tell me he was coming back. I always thought she was lying until I saw him running to me up on the porch.

I sighed, the desire to be a child again hurt worse than the abuse I undertake everyday. I looked up and saw my window upstairs and remembered the first time I had snuck out to see my former boyfriend. I had been so scared; I had to jump on the tree, it’s very simple for me now. Chad was waiting in his mustang at the bottom of the driveway. George had caught me and yanked me by the hair kicking and screaming into the house.

That was the first time he had ever hit me. That was a year ago. After that George seemed to like the sight of me in pain. He started to hit me over the most irrelevant reasons. If we had been eating (before he stopped feeding us) and I forgot to set out the butter or something he would back hand me. I’m lucky now if I get slapped. George quit his job and now gets welfare money for food because of his two children; Joey and I. The bastard doesn't even let us eat the food he wouldn't have if it weren't for us.

It isn't fair damn it! Joey is a child! He deserves so much more! He deserves a father that will take him out in the yard and throw football with him, a mother who will love him with everything she has! He deserves to be cherished! But no, all he has is me. My very annoying, curly brown hair falls a little past my chest. I have big brown eyes with pale skin; which is ridiculous considering I’m Italian! I have freakishly long legs; I tower at 5’8’’. I don’t like to wear revealing clothes too much. It doesn't happen very often. George hadn't been the only one who tried to rape me…

Chad, my ex had been drunk and I had just arrived at his place. His parents were out of town and he wanted to party. I really needed to get away and have some fun, the thing is, he left out that it would only be us at this party. As soon as I stepped through the door his lips were pressed to mine in urgency. I chuckled at him at first until he started yanking my dress up. I told him to stop but he wouldn't... After having my sleeve ripped off I pushed him with every ounce of strength I had and he stumbled backwards. He’s extremely strong considering he’s the quarter back on the football team. There is no way I would've gotten away if he wasn't drunk. The look in his eyes that night,  he looked like a predator.  He had such an anger inside of him, that hadn't been the man I wanted to be with.

I broke up with him the next morning. He’s tried multiple times to get me to forgive him but I never will. I wrapped my arms around myself, a sudden cool breeze blew. I walked up the old creaky steps that whined begging to be replaced and pushed open the front door. A glass was thrown next to my head and my arms covered my face; a defense mechanism I've obtained from beatings. “Where have you been?!” George slurred his words. “Out,” I slammed the door shut. “Clean that up and make me some dinner,” He ordered opening another beer and plopping back on his recliner. I made my way through the living room and went to the closet to get the broom and dust pan. I carefully swept up the remainder of glass from the empty beer bottle he had thrown. Even though George was a drunk he liked a clean house which I am responsible for. If there is even a speck of dust on the ceiling fan I’ll get a beating. I went into the kitchen and pulled out some chicken. While that was frying I boiled some broccoli. After the broccoli had boiled I poured the water out and replaced it with cheese. I cut the chicken into pieces then put everything in one dish and put it in the oven for ten minutes. I waited, my arms crossed leaning against the counter. It smelled so damn delicious.

I turned around and pulled out a spoon from the drawer I was tempted to take a quick bite. He’d never know.  Suddenly, my hair was yanked back, fingers tangled into its curly mess. I fell on my ass and jumped back up ready to block his next attempt to strike me. “Go, you little bitch!” He roared. I didn't even try to make a snide comment like I usually did, when George talked like that you don’t talk back. I bumped into my mother, Margaret while running out of the kitchen. Her right eye was swelling shut, George had clearly hit her.

For a moment I felt bad for her. She had done nothing but stand by the man she loved. Exactly, she stood there and had done nothing while he beat me until I would be knocked unconscious. Stood there while he ripped my clothes off, leaving me completely vulnerable. The sympathy I had felt moments ago passed and rage came to take its place. I bolted past her and ran up the stairs skipping two at a time. The house was medium size. If you walk in through the front door you’ll see a couch, recliner, and a 53’’ plasma with a coffee table which has cigarette burns all over it.

There is a bedroom, George and Margaret’s, to the right as soon as you step foot in the house. Just before getting into the kitchen but still in the living room is the stair case that leads to where Joey and I’s rooms are across from each other and we have bathroom of our own in the middle. The kitchen is plain and all appliances are white. They’re a pain to clean; across from the kitchen is another bathroom. When leaving the kitchen there’s another set of stairs to the basement. Joey and I’s bathroom is rather small and only has a shower, toilet, and sink but works. I walked into the bathroom huffing and placed both hands on either side of the sink. I looked up into the mirror and saw the usual disappointment. My brown hair had streaks of blonde in it and the curls were everywhere and frizzy. I looked at my body and felt disgust and to think I was going to eat. I bent over and tied my hair in a messy bun; not really caring.

The purple bags under my eyes showed that I was in desperate need for a few hours of shut eye. I splashed some water on my face and felt two arms wrap tightly around my waist. I looked down and there stood Joey; smiling and hugging me. “Hey Joe, have fun at Tony’s today?” I asked running my fingers through his tangled hair. Tony is one of his friends he made at school last year. He lives down the road, I send Joey down there almost every day unless I don’t have to work and he isn't alone with Margaret and George. “We watched Spongebob.” He erupted in a fit of laughter. “He’s silly! How come you couldn’t pick me up today? Tony’s mommy wasn’t very happy walking me home,” Well, that bitch can deal I was working; not all of us can sit on our asses all day while our working. Not to mention, I know about the affair she’s having with the gardener. Gold digging whore. “What happened when you got home? Did mommy or daddy say anything to you?” I call them mommy and daddy for him. He still thinks my parents are the best. I don’t want him to know how terrible they really are.

“George just asked me for a beer and mom wanted me to get her an ashtray.” He sighed and sat down on the toilet. Why would she ask for an ashtray, they still use the table anyways? “Why’d you call Dad George?” He’s never done it before. “I hear you when you talk to him sissy; you never call him daddy anymore.” He rested his chin upon his fist and looked up at me waiting for my answer. “That doesn't mean you shouldn't bubby,” He jumped up. “Oh well, can we go out? I know you never let me but please? It’s nice outside!” He grabbed my hand, pulled me into my room, and pointed out the window. I felt bad, I never take him out. I usually go out the window when I leave. I don’t want to go out the front door; Joey does not need to see that. “Joe, I’m not feeling real well can we just watch a movie?” I pushed out my bottom lip, smiling partially.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. But tomorrow please, sissy!” He pleaded I couldn't say no to that face. “Okay, when I pick you up after work we’ll go somewhere.” Joey jumped up and down grinning. “Hurry up and take a shower bubby! I think the Scooby Doo marathon is on tonight!” I sounded so excited; I loved this show as a kid. Joey’s eyes lit up in shock. “What?! Omg sissy I’m going to miss it!” He sounded horrified. “Calm down there killer it’s on in half an hour you have plenty of time.” He ran into his room, grabbed some clothes, rushed into the bathroom then slammed the door shut. I chuckled to myself; maybe I should say that more often to get him to take a shower

  I walked into my room and quickly took my shorts off and put on some sweats. Then took off my shirt and threw a tank top on and a hoodie over it. It’s just Joey, why should I care? I jumped on my bed and picked up my phone merely checking the time when a message appeared on my screen. My brows furrowed, only a few select people knew my number. I had it changed after Chad wouldn't stop calling and texting it. I opened the message.

Unknown:  I've always loved how your curls framed you face, beautiful as usual.

I gasped and looked around the room. Who was that and where in the hell are they?! I looked to the windows; the curtains were wide open from Joey earlier. I ran to them and pulled them shut. My phone buzzed from across the room. I looked around frantically, could he still see me? If he was a he?

Unknown: That wasn’t very nice, I was only admiring your beauty. You should consider taking the hoodie off, I liked you better in the tank. 

I scoffed; what a pervert. I locked the windows and dialed AT&T I’d have to change my number again. My phone brightened as another messaged appeared at the top.

Unknown: Changing your number won’t change anything, I’ll just find that number too.

A shiver crept up my spine. Who was that? Could it be Chad? Was it Derek? I just met him today; this guy seemed to have been watching me for a while. I don’t need this right now; I already have way to much stress. I locked the door and grabbed one of my trusty razors. Sitting on the bed, I backed up against the headboard. I’ve got to hurry before Joey comes in. I pushed the razor to my wrist and sliced. Needing more I pushed deeper. I sighed and closed my eyes loving the high I got from it. I felt little dribbles of blood fall across my wrist. Joey would be out of the shower any minute but now I relished in the pain.

A/N: Hello! Sorry, I haven't updated in forever. I still have plenty to upload but don't want to overwhelm you all. Please comment so I know that someone is reading it and I'll put more up. Thank you. xx

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