My Fallen Angel {Chapter 1}

As I walk down the winding path in the forest, wearing my favorite jeans, a black tee-shirt, and my favorite hunting boots, I run through once more what I am about to do. I check my jean pocket for my slingshot and check my other pocket for my black Military pocket knife. I have to grab a few more things at the house to put in my bag. I plan to leave when he is asleep. It's eleven thirty, he should be out cold by now.
I walk down the sidewalk and cautiously up the cement stairs. When I reach the door, I open it as quietly as I possibly can. When I am in, I turn, and close the door without a sound. When I turn back around, he is standing in the kitchen doorway with a glass of whiskey, leaning on the door archway. He is wearing a white tee-shirt, jeans, and his steel toe boots.
He is obviously drunk. Standing there, unsure of what to do, I think to myself, When is he ever sober anymore? Ever since that night, he hasn't been the same man I once knew.
He stares at me and suddenly starts yelling at me. I try to block out what he is saying, but he just keeps getting louder and louder. Looking up at him, I give him a dirty look and he grabs my arms, shakes me, starts telling me it's my fault, that he hates me, that I should have stopped it, and that I am the reason it happened. He has been telling me this ever since that night. Holding back my tears, I try to pull away from him, then finally push him away. He laughs when he hits the wall and his whiskey splashes out of his glass over his hand. He takes a step towards me and pulls back his arm. Before I know it, his hand leaves a sting on my face. I close my eyes for a moment, looking away from him as he stands there, laughing and drinking what's left of his whiskey.
I turn my head towards him, staring him dead in the face as he smirks at me.
"What are you going to do about it you little bitch? huh? You're pathetic and worthless, you should have been the one to die, not him!"
He screams at me, throwing his empty glass, aiming for my head. I dodge it, just as it's about to hit my face and I turn, watching as it hits the wall behind me. He laughs and starts coming towards me again. When he reaches for my throat, I duck under his arm and run to the stairs. Before I reach the top, he grabs my ankle and I fall. I struggle as all 245 lbs. of him are on me and he tries to take my shirt off, reaching for my breasts. He grabs the hem of my shirt, but before he can get it off of me, I kick him off and he rips the bottom of it. He falls down the stairs and I run as fast as I can to my room.
My heart is speeding as I close and lock the door behind me. Hurriedly, I throw my bag on the bed and go to my closet. My hands reach in and I pull out some clothes that I throw on my bed. There are some underwear, socks, a bra, tee-shirts, and jeans laying there. I grab my lighters and my other military pocket knife. I hear footsteps in the hall, and in seconds, he is pounding on my door.
"OPEN UP YOU WHORE, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! SO HELP ME SAWYER, YOU'RE GONNA GET WHATS COMING TO YOU! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR NOW!"
He starts kicking it, and I know I don't have much time left. Grabbing a few things from my dresser, I then throw it all in my bag. I know it's not much, but it will have to do. I grab my jacket and throw it in my bag just as I hear something hard hit the door. Whipping my head around, I see just in time that he made a hole in the door with the golf club he has in his hands. He is smirking at me from the other side of the door through the hole he made.
"There you are you little slut. You're going to regret doing that once I get in there."
I stare at him horrified at the evil look in his eyes as he says this. Looking away from him, as he continues making the hole bigger, I zip up my backpack. Grabbing the pistol from under my bed, that I stole from his case while he was asleep yesterday, I put on the holster that came with it on my leg. I quickly make sure it is loaded and the safety is on. Putting it in the holster that's on my left leg, I then grab the rope from under my bed. There are two pieces of rope and I unzip my bag and throw one piece in it. I then tie the other piece to my bed post and throw the other end of it out of my window.
Throwing my backpack on, I am just about to climb out the window, then I hear the door unlock. I look behind me and see his arm reaching through a much bigger hole, then disappearing back through it. I turn to climb out the widow, but he is quick. He bursts through the door very pissed off, with the golf club still in hand. He reaches me as I am about to throw my leg out. He throws the club on my floor and grabs my backpack with both hands, yanking me from the window. I go flying across the room onto the floor.
I roll into my bookcase and books fall off onto me. I cover my head to block the blows. He laughs as he walks towards me. I go to get up and defend myself, but he puts his foot onto my stomach and holds me down. Struggling to get up, I try clawing at his leg and wriggling to get free. He kicks my left side hard and puts his foot back on my stomach pushing down harder and harder.
"I told you that you were going to pay, you little piece of shit."
He spits on me, and as I hold my arms up trying to block most of it, I look around for something. A thought hits me and I reach for my pistol, but before I wrap my fingers around it, he steps on my hand. I scream in pain and he laughs.
"Oh no you don't hun. I am going to make you suffer. Just like you made Chase suffer!"
His eyes catch something on my shelf and he gets a wicked gleam in his eyes, silently telling me he has an idea. He releases my hand from under his foot and I cradle it against my chest trying not to cry. He reaches for my two belts. He looks at them and smiles more. While he is distracted, I get up onto my hands and knees, and reach into my pocket grabbing my knife. I snap it open, and just as I am about to swing it at his leg, he kicks it out of my hand and shakes his head at me with a disgusted look on his face.
"Were you really just going to stab me? Uh uh uh you little slut. That isn't nice at all. You shouldn't act so rude towards your own father you know. Why cant you be a good girl for once?"
"You're not my father, you alcoholic bastard!"
I yell at him from the ground and he kicks me back down, putting his foot back on my stomach. He looks down at me and takes his foot off, leaning down to grab me by my shirt. He lifts me up, and takes my backpack off.
"You don't need this for what I have planned for you."
Screaming, I try to break free, but he is to strong. He throws my backpack across the room, and it lands under the window. He is holding me by my arm with one hand, and grabs the belts with the other. He drags me towards my bed, and I use the only idea I have left. I let all 130 lbs. of me drop dead, making him have to carry me across the room.
"You little bitch."
He says as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I kick and scream and hit his back and head as hard as I could. He isn't effected at all and it just angers him more. He throws me off his shoulder and onto the bed roughly. I go to hit him in the face but he grabs my right wrist, pulling me down, and wraps my belt around it. He makes a loop and ties the other end to the bed. I scream and try to pull free. He slaps me and finally tears spill out of my eyes.
"Don't do this, please, I didn't do anything wrong!"
He smirks at me and walks around the bed to tie my other hand down. I grab my wrist that's tied up and try to untie it. Bending down at the end of the bed, he picks up the knife he kicked out of my hand a few minutes ago. He looks at it, and then at me, and I see another idea come into his head. Fear boils inside of me and I start to panic. This is how I am going to die. This is it.
I try harder to pull free of my belt, but he tied it so tight and it's starting to bruise my wrist. He walks towards me with the knife, completely ignoring the idea about tying my other hand to the post opposite from me. I look at him as he reaches me, my eyes wide, and he swings his arm around with the knife. I try to jump away and off the bed, but before he reaches me, the belt bites into me and stops me from going far.
He falls forward as the power and force of his swing, plus his drunken state, pull him off balance, making him fall onto the bed next to me as I stand beside it. Standing there, I watch this happen as if it's in slow motion. Shocked that he missed me by so much, and thrown off balance, the knife falls out of his hand and onto the floor in front of me. I make no hesitation, dropping to my knees and grab the knife. I quickly start sawing the belt and it snaps in half.
With the loop still around my wrist, and the other half hanging on the post, I run and grab my backpack off the floor, still holding the open knife. I quickly throw my bag out the window, and as it hits the ground, out of nowhere, I am ripped away from the window. I am thrown onto the floor once more and I hit my back against the wall. Thinking to myself, I am not backing down this time, I stand up and face him with the knife ready in my hand. I am getting out alive.
He stares at the knife and gives me a hard look. He steps forward cautiously and I raise the knife, making him stop in his tracks. We stand there for what feels like a lifetime, but it has only been a minute. One of us has to make a move sooner or later. I step forward, but stop cold as I see a smile flash across his face. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out one of his own black military pocket knives. He must have just remembered he had it.
He opens it up and I recognize it immediately. My eyes open wide as the memories flash through my mind like it was just yesterday.

{A fire starting in the kitchen while everyone was asleep. Chase in his room at the end of the hall. Me in my room next to his. Dad in his bed, sleeping with Soldier, our Mastiff. No one knew what was happening, until it was to late. The smoke came into my room, and I woke up coughing. I search my room for where it was coming from, and then the smell hit me. Burning wood. 

"Daddy! Daddy!" 

I yelled from my room, crying and scared. I got up and ran to the door, opening it to search for daddy. But when I opened the door, flames are the only thing that met me. 

"Chase! Sawyer!" 

I hear daddy yelling for us through the smoke. Chase was in his room still and I didn't know what to do. I made a decision and started running towards his room. I ran as fast as I could as the flames came behind me from the stairs. I screamed as they licked my feet. The door slammed shut behind me when I reached Chase's room. Turning around, I saw Chase staring up at me confused. He was four years younger then me. He was the baby of the house. I was only ten, but I was the big sister, and knew I had to do something. 

I saw a knife laying on the floor from when daddy was in here showing Chase his collection. He must have forgot it. I pick it up and search his room for some type of escape. I look out the window and look down at the roof and ground below from two stories up. I tell Chase to go by his bed and grab his blankets. He goes to his bed and pulls at them, but they wont come off. I go over to help him, then hand him the knife to hold for a second while I rip off the sheets to tie together. I run over to the window and tie a sheet to the bed post. As I go back towards Chase and reach for the knife to take back, an explosion from downstairs erupts and the floor under Chase starts breaking. 

"No!" 

I yell and run towards him, dropping the blankets. The floor collapses around him in a hole, and I reach out to grab his hand. I grab his hand that had extended up as he fell, but it was the one with the knife in it. Not being able to do anything about it, I watch as the knife falls out of his hand, flipping around, and plunges into his chest. 

Gasping, I start crying more, trying to pull him up to help him, but I'm to weak and lay there helpless. He stares up at me with pleading eyes and starts crying, before I can say or do anything, I see life fading from his eyes as he goes silent and limp. With my little brother hanging from my grip, in a burning hole over fire from the floor below, with a black Swiss army knife sticking out of his chest, I helplessly cry out for help. I beg, and pray, and ask anyone for help to save my little brother who I love so much. My grip starts slipping and I yell out, trying to hold on to him with everything I have. In the end, it wasn't enough, and he slips through my grasp, falling into the flames open arms with the knife still buried in his chest. 

"No! Chase!" 

I yell, balling my eyes out, and I start coughing from the smoke rising up.

I stand up and run to the window with tears staining my face. I yell out, and see my dad in the yard. 

"Daddy! Help me!" 

I see him searching for Chase also, but I know he won't find him. Climbing out onto the roof under the window, I crawl to the edge. Daddy comes running to the edge of the roof and holds out his hands, telling me to jump. Closing my eyes, I jump and land in his arms. He hugs me and tells me everything will be alright. He runs to under a tree near the road and sets me down. I hear sirens in the distance and stare at the house falling apart. My daddy yells for Chase. He comes over to me and grabs my shoulders picking me up a little bit off the ground. 

"Sawyer where is your little brother!" he yells at me. 

I start crying again and try and tell him between sobs. 

"I'm so 'Hiccup' sorry daddy I 'Hiccup' I tried to save him, but the knife hit his chest and 'Hiccup' I couldn't pull him up from the hole in the floor and, and he 'Hiccup' he slipped out of my hand into the floor below with the fire I... I..." 

Without knowing what to say next, he sets me down and I try to hug him, but he pushes me away and I land on my butt. I look up at him shocked, and see him look at me like he didn't even know me. 

"no, no, no, no, no!"

 He yells as he runs towards the house looking for Chase. Crying more and hiccuping as I sit under the tree, I look over as the firetrucks, cops, and paramedics pull into the grass next to the house. I stare off into the darkness zoning out with tears streaming down my stained face, Soldier barking in the background, voices yelling, sirens blaring, shivering and in shock.}

I blame myself for that night, and the bastard knows it. Ever since I told him what happened out under the tree, he treated me as if I was nothing to him, and got drunk every night from then on. He started being abusive and yelling at me and breaking stuff. He was never the same again. Tears threaten to spill once again, but I hold them back. That is the knife that started this whole mess when I was only ten. The knife that changed my life forever. He must have grabbed it when he went in after Chase, and only found the knife in an ash pile. A devious smile creeps onto his face when he sees the realization fall onto my face of what he was about to do.
He laughs and lunges at me. I am a second to late to react and when I dive out of the way, his knife makes contact and slashes a medium size gash on my right side. Falling to the floor, I instinctively grab my side in pain. Looking up, I see him on the floor hunched over. He isn't moving. I get up slowly, cautiously walking toward him with my knife in one hand, holding my side with the other as blood starts to cover it. I kick him over, and he falls onto his back. I stare down at him as he looks up at me with one hand on the knife and the other laying by his side.
His knife is in his stomach and he is in shock. He slowly starts to come back down to reality and sees me standing there. His face twists in disgust and he starts to get up. The alcohol must be numbing his pain. He is blocking the door and staring at me, with a look in his eyes that is beyond anything humane. He is out for revenge of his favorite beloved child. He keeps the knife in himself and takes a step toward me. I turn and run toward the window. When I reach the window he gets a hold of the belt around my wrist. I turn and kick him in the balls.
He howls in pain, releasing the belt, and falls to the floor onto his knees holding himself. Wasting no time, I close the knife and stash it in my pocket. Throwing my legs out the window, I painfully climb down the rope as tears spring to my eyes. I jump down and hit the ground hard, falling to my knees and having the knife fall out. I get up and stumble towards my backpack. I grab it and throw it on, then reach down and grab my knife returning it to my pocket.
Looking up at the window, I see him looking out.
"I will find you Sawyer! And you're going to pay for what you did!"
I turn and stumble down the dark road that I will never return to again. I hear him screaming as I get farther into the distance.
"YOU HEAR ME BITCH?! I WILL KILL YOU WHEN I FIND YOU! YOU DESERVE TO DIE! MARK MY WORDS I WILL..."
I couldn't hear him anymore when I reach the path that leads into the woods. Slowing down, I catch my breath. I walk in pain towards my secret hideout. Once I am about five miles into the woods, I take a few more turns at the markers I placed, and see the abandoned little shack where someone used to live.
Staggering in, I fall onto the old mattress on the floor. It all finally comes out. I ball my eyes out until there are no more tears left. Once I'm done crying, I sit up and take off what's left of my shirt. I stare at the belt still tied to my wrist and angrily undo it, then I throw it across the room. Standing up, I walk to the tiny bathroom where there is an old dirty mirror and sink.
My cut has stopped bleeding from the pressure I put on it the whole way here, and now it's covered in dried blood. Going back into the bed area, I look through my bag and grab the first aid kit I brought. I take out a gauze roll and some cream to put on my cut.
Walking over by the door, I pick up a jug off the floor that contains water in it, then go back into the bathroom. Ripping off a part of my shirt, I gently wipe off my right side and let out a cry of pain and agony closing my eyes shut. I repeat the stinging process until all of the blood is cleaned off. I put down the rag and look into the mirror at myself. I don't recognize the girl staring back at me. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. Once I can breath normal, I go back to mentally checking myself. The gash is about four or five inches across. It is scabbed over for now.
I will have to be cautious. My left side is bruised from when he kicked me with his boot. It is about the size of a foot all up my side. I look down at my right wrist, and sure as hell, there is a black and blue ring around my whole wrist from the belt. I touch it and let out a hiss between my clenched teeth. My left hand is throbbing from when he stepped on it.
I return to nurturing myself. Slowly wrapping the bandage around my midsection, I tie it off when it reaches the end. Walking back out into the bed area, I put the first aid kit back into my bag. I grab a new tee-shirt and slide into it. Sitting back down, I grab a bottle next to me and take out painkillers. Popping them in my mouth, I slug them down with some water. I take out a can of soup and open the pull up tab. I drink it all down in about three minutes.
Throwing the can onto the floor, I lay back onto the bed, wincing at the pain going through my whole body and let out a moan. I rack through my brain, now that I finally have some time to think. I need to get out of here. He probably called the cops, and they are most likely out looking for me. I am awestruck that I got out of there. It feels like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. Maybe I have some time to catch a few minutes of sleep. It's around midnight so I close my eyes, curl up tight, holding myself in a ball, and before I know it, I'm out cold.
I wake up sweating and screaming. Looking around, I remember where I'm at. Every time I fall asleep, I always have the same nightmare every night since that night. Looking outside, I see that it's bright out. Shit I must have slept at least four or five hours. Quickly, I get up and grab a granola bar out of my bag and eat it. Throwing the wrapper in a plastic bin, I grab my sling shot off the floor, I must have taken it out of my pocket last night at some point, and put it in my backpack. I grab my water bottle off the floor that I half finished last night, take my jacket out of my bag and throw it on. I open the door for the last time, grab my backpack, and step outside.
Walking out into the woods, I look around. Where am I going to go? I never thought that through before. My plan only went as far as to run away. But to where, is still a mystery. I guess I'll just walk and see where that leads me to. Facing the opposite direction of the nightmare I escaped from, my feet carry me onward. Before last night, I have always been trapped. Always been afraid. Always been locked up. Always been abused. Always been kept away from everyone and everything.
But now, for the first time in seven years, I finally feel free. A small smile appears on my face at the thought of being free. I haven't smiled in what feels like a lifetime. It feels alien. As I continue my journey and dodge trees, My mind wanders. It is September, and fall is half way over, Winter is approaching. I look around at the trees and see all of the beautiful colors on the leaves. Red, orange, yellow, brown, and some still a little green. The woods have been a friend to me. Protecting me and giving me an escape for so long. Promising a better future. Holding many secrets. What will happen to me now?