Isn't She Lovely

Meet Abby, a 17 year old girl with a dead mother and an abusive father, her life isn't so great until she meets a friendly face that guides her to a better, brighter life.


1. A Friendly Face

Abby's P.O.V


For about the millionth time this week, my dad has hit me over something stupid. This time, it's about a drink. I made him coffee when he wanted a tea.

"So, what do you do next time I want you to make me a drink?" He shouted.

"...Make it?"

"Wrong answer," He slapped me again, only this time it was harder. "You ask me what drink I want before assuming I want a different drink and making it for me, am I clear?!"

"Yes..." I mumbled.

"I can't hear you?!" He slapped me again.

"Yes!" I shouted.

"Good," He shoved me to the floor, and walked away.

I ran upstairs to the bathroom, with tear filled eyes, dreading what my face now looks like after the several slaps my father had given me. A tear streamed down my face and off my chin as I saw my extremely red, marked face. I can't cope with this any more, I thought to myself. He's been like this ever since my mum's funeral when I was 7, and for everyday for the last 10 years, he's hit me. I've had 132 bruises all together in my life. Some of them are still on my arms and legs but others have faded.


It's currently 11 pm and I've just had the greatest idea ever. I will pack the things I really need, and at early hours in the morning I'll climb out of my window, over the wall that has glass on it and out into the streets. Once I'm free out on the streets to go wherever, I will go to one special place that is always in my heart, my mum's grave. Because I'll be tired, I will sleep next to her until the proper morning and then I will think of where I want to go.

I had packed my old Nokia phone, it's charger, a lot of money, a travel blanket, a torch and a pocket knife, so I can be safe. I know I wont have a plug socket but if I end up finding one I can use my charger.

After getting myself ready to leave my digital clock read '01:00', and I thought it was the perfect time to leave as my dad will be sound asleep.

I carefully opened my window, trying to be as silent as I possibly can. Until I heard the door of my dad's bedroom creak and his heavy footsteps. Oh, no, I've got to get out, now!

In fear, I climbed down the water pipe, catching my jeans on the nails that held the pipe to the wall. As soon as I touched the ground I made a run for it to the wall. Just when I was getting to the other side of the wall, I felt a hand grab my shoulder. The hand (that I assume is my dads) tried to drag me back but instead it made me cut my leg on the glass as I jumped over the wall.

I limped down the street as fast as I could to get away from my dad.


Fortunately, my dad has a bad leg so he can't run very fast. I forced myself to run, even though my leg was bleeding.

Dad had stopped running, "IT WON'T BE LONG UNTIL I FIND YOU AGAIN AND YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU EVER THOUGHT OF LEAVING ME," And he went back inside the house.

Eventually, at 1:45 in the morning, I had arrived at my mother's grave and I laid down next to it and drifted off to sleep...


"Excuse me miss?" A male voice spoke.

I opened my eyes to find a handsome, black haired boy in front of me.

"May I ask what you're doing sleeping next to Maria Thompson's grave?"

I sat up, "Oh, this is my mother, and it's a long story why I'm here," I answered.

"I see. Well, I'm Michael," he shook my hand.


"That's a really pretty name, Abby. A pretty name for a pretty girl," he winked.

I blushed, "Thank you. So, Michael, what brings you here at..." I checked my watch. "At 10 in the morning?"

"Visiting a dead relative, just like you I guess, but not sleeping next to them," he laughed. "So, would you mind telling me that long story? I know I'm just a random stranger who found you asleep next to your mother's grave, but I'm a nice person."

"Well, I would but, I'm not sure. We've literally just met like 5 minutes ago."

"I'm aware of that, but if it's a secret or involves something serious then I won't tell a soul and I will support you. I'm quite friendly, you know."

"I kind of gathered that."

He gave me the sad puppy dog eyes. It was adorable and I couldn't resist telling him all about my dad and me running away.

"Oh my gosh, Abby, that's awful, so what are you going to do? Where are you going to stay?" he asked.

"I actually don't know, none of my relatives want anything to do with me and I don't have enough money to rent a flat. I haven't thought this through," I burst out crying. "I can't go back there, he'll literally kill me."

"Shhhh," Michael hugged me tight. "You can stay with me if you want, it's not a problem at all, my mum will love you. We have plenty of spare rooms and we really don't mind at all."

"Are you completely sure?" I stopped crying.

"One million gazillion percent."

We walked together, telling each other things about ourselves. And when we got to Michael's, we were greeted by his mother, a lovely woman with blonde hair and a welcoming smile.

"Hello, dear, I'm Karen. What brings you here?" she asked politely.

"This is Abby, mum. She'll be staying with us for... I don't know how long. Ab, do you mind if I tell my mum about why you need to stay here?" Michael said.

"As long as she doesn't tell anyone."

So, Michael told Karen about why I need to stay, Karen gave me a hug and said, "Of course you can stay here, precious. For as long as you need. But Mikey, aren't you and the boys out on tour in a month or so?"

"What boys? What tour?" I asked, very confused.

"I'm in a band, silly, didn't I tell you?" Michael laughed.

I shook my head.

"Well, yeah, I'm in a band. And if you're not back up on your feet by the time the tour starts, I'm sure the boys won't mind you coming with us. Come on, Abby, let's get you sorted..."

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