“You worthless piece of shit!” my father screams at me as his fist connects to my jaw. I cringe back in pain and fall to the ground. My vision begins to blur as I drag my mangled body to the corner of the room.
“Please dad, s-stop” I manage to choke out as blood drips down my face. I came home to find him completely drunk and infuriated. Whatever ticked him off really did the deed, I haven’t seen him this worked up and violent in a long time, not since the first couple of weeks after mom’s death. Those were the worst.
“You are nothing. All your good for is looking innocent as people walk all over you” he spits at me, knowing my weak points. He knows how I view myself as weak and useless and doesn’t hesitate to torture me with his degrading words. I can’t help the tears that begin to run down my cheeks mixing in with the blood.
“I can do whatever I want to you and you’ll just sit there and take it. You're a poor excuse for a human being. No one loves you or even gives a shit about you. Your mother would be disappointed to see who you grew up to be you fucking whore” he yells directly in my face, his booming voice full of deadly venom.
“That’s n-not true” I barely whisper.
He proceeds to kick me in my stomach over and over again. I can’t help but count. Father kicks me seventeen times repeatedly. I start seeing stars and know I’ll probably black out soon. The sad part is that this wouldn’t be the first time I’d go unconscious. That’s how fucked up my life is, it’s pathetic...I’m pathetic.
I slip in an out of consciousness lying there on the floor still hearing my dad shout at me. Soon I can only manage to hear his voice muffled and my sight slowly fades. I can’t do anything but wait until the darkness engulfs me completely.
When I wake up I’m still laid on the floor, a tiny puddle of blood surrounding my head. The pounding and throbbing occurring all over my body makes me want to scream. I’m sore all over and just pulling myself off the ground in a huge challenge. But once I do I manage to hobble to my room and lock the door behind me, fearful of my father even though I’m sure he is out getting drunk.
Once I reach the bed I do the only thing I can think of and dial Zayn’s number. He’s the closest I have to a friend at the moment and I just need to talk to someone who will listen. It’s not long until he picks up.
“Hey Marley” he says causally greeting me. I try to muffle my sniffles and huffing but it’s kind of obvious.
“Zayn? I need someone” I choke out not even bothering to hide the sobs escaping me.
“Shit Marley what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you at home in your room? Where’s your father-” he spews out question after question and I have to cut him off to stop his rambling.
“I came home from the dress shop and he was drunk a-and…” I trail off now beginning to hiccup from the sobbing.
“Shhh, calm down babe. I’m glad you called me. I’m on my way over there now”
“What?” I ask in between sniffles.
“He’s out right?”
“Then I’m coming over to your house. I’ll be there soon just hang in there Mar” he says and I can hear a car start in the background.
“But you don’t know where I live” I point out, the sobbing, hiccups and sniffles gradually ceasing.
“Yeah I do. I’ll be there in about ten minutes” he says.
“How do you know where I li-” I begin to question but he abruptly cuts me off.
“That doesn’t matter now, just keep yourself locked in your room until I come in case he returns home” Zayn instructs me.
“I’ll see you soon” he says. I say goodbye and wait in silence for Zayn to arrive. It’s strange, I’d never thought I’d willingly be inviting a guy like Zayn to my house for comfort. It’s strange how some things change without warning.