Abused.

Abigail Evans enjoys very few things; living isn't one of them.

She's been abused for years by her father, as well as being bullied at school by her classmates. Hell, even the teachers bully her. But Abigail isn't going to let them win. So she does the one thing she can think of.

Run away.

POSTED ON WATTPAD FIRST: http://www.wattpad.com/story/3701796-abused-a-one-direction-fanfiction

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2. Chapter 2

May 20

 

 

Today wasn’t the day I was hoping to have. My old best friend – just a friend now – had pushed me towards my locker saying

 

 

“Mother fucker”

 

 

While I scraped my hand right on the sharp part of my locker and nearly broke my iPhone, and that was just the beginning of it. Sure, I have a few normal friends that don’t really do that to me, but I only have two. While I’m just plain, old, Abigail.

 

 

They’re the only people that really speak to me; I don’t even have a guy friend! Unless you count internet friends as actual friends, especially when they live in England! Ethan is my Male Directioner friend; I met him through one Facebook page and developed a crush on him. He’s adorable! Who wouldn’t like him?

 

 

I’ve also got a few other guy friends on the internet that don’t exactly mean a lot to me. They are internet friends, it’s not like I’ll ever meet up with them or anything. They’re just there so I don’t feel lonely all the time.

 

 

I’m sitting on my bed, notebook in hand, writing another entry in this diary. It lets me release all those negative thoughts without actually saying them. And it’s not like I’d be telling Ethan this, he has his own problems and probably wouldn’t care about mine.

 

 

I can hear and feel my father’s stomping up the stairs, which can only mean one thing. I’ll be back in an hour or so.

 

 

 

I put the book in between my mattress and the floor and stand up quickly, making sure I’m quiet at the same time.

 

“Abigail! Get over here!” I hear him yell, slurring with every word. He’s drunk yet again. He’s always drunk, it doesn’t matter the day or the time.

 

I walk out the door to see him right there, in front of my face. He grabs my wrist tightly, causing me to wince.

 

*****IF YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH ABUSE, SKIP PAST THIS PART! *****

 

He pulls me down the stairs, gripping my wrist tighter with each step. I stay emotionless because it’s just easier. That way he thinks he isn’t winning, that he doesn’t have power. 

 

 

He slaps me hard across the face, sending my face in that direction as well. I feel a stinging sensation where his hand made contact. I wince inside of my head, still trying not to show emotion.

 

 

“You dirty slut! Why can’t you be more like your sister?!” He yells drunkenly, throwing me to the floor. I curl up into a ball as he kicks my stomach, face, and everywhere else he can get to. I silently cry, remembering my sister.

 

 

Flashback

 

 

“Dad! Are we there yet?!” I yell up to him, we’re on a road trip to Arizona to visit our family. I was only 8 at the time and my sister was 16.

 

 

“Almost, just let me ge-“ He was cut off by the screeching of tires around us. 
 

 

I scream and closed my eyes.

 

 

Oh my god.

 

 

I’m going to die today. I say a quick prayer in my head, hearing the screaming of my sister, Lilah, when it stopped out of nowhere. I peeked my eyes open and looked at the scene around me. I saw dad passed out in the front seat, he was still breathing though. I looked in the passenger seat to find my sister covered in blood. I startdc crying harder and louder, curling up into a ball on the seat.

 

 

'Why am I alive?' I had thought.

 

 

End of flashback

 

 

The abuse really started after Lilah died. He hadn’t hit me yet though, he raped me. I was 8 years-old and my father raped me. It sounded like some book, but it wasn’t a book in my case. It really happened; I can still remember that pain I went through as a child.



I didn’t notice my mind had wandered off until he kicked me straight in the face, the salty tears stream silently down and I know that was definitely going to leave a bruise, a very large one. I did my very best to wipe away the tears before he can see.

 

 

“Stand up,” He growls. I do as he asked and he grabs my wrist like before. He pulls me to his bedroom. The bedroom that used to be my mother and his. He throws me on the bed and strips off his clothes and basically rips my shirt and trousers off of me.

 

 

I don’t do anything, just think to myself. Think to myself of how I’m going to get out of here someday.

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