Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for violence.
My eyes strained against the brightness of the alarm clock in the middle of the night. It's bright yellow light indicated that it was 2:42 in the morning. Sighing heavily, I turned back on my side and stared blankly that the wall. There was really nothing better to do.
I had only dozed off for maybe a few seconds when I heard the door being bashed open, hitting the wall on the opposite side. I jerked my head up and blinked a few times to try and get used to the light, wondering who in the world would barge in my room at this hour.
I tried to make out the figure, but it was merely too dark, continuing to blink until I could make it out. Suddenly I felt a strong grip on my arm as the person pulled me roughly out of my bed.
"Stand up!" they yelled. Oh god, I thought. My dad.
He'd always had a drinking problem, but whenever he came home from the bar he'd go upstaires. Most of the times he couldn't even make it to his room- simply passing out on the stairs. Unfortunatly, I didn't grow up with a mother to protect me or love me. She died when I was two.
At first, living with just my dad wasn't that bad, but we didn't connect very well. We learned that when I turned six. We didn't have anything in common, our lives just passed by each other.
It wasn't until I was 10 when he started the abuse. At the time, I was too young to understand what was going on. Whenever he would tell me to keep my mouth shut, I obeyed. I didn't know any better. I was over thrown by my adolecence. After he would hit me, he would make me swear not to tell anyone about it. I would, of course, do as he told. The act continued until I was 14, when I realized that this wasn't normal. All I wanted to do was tell my friends what was going on, but I was terrified that of what my dad would do to me if someone found out about the abuse.
The year I turned 15, I went to school on a Wednesday, like normal. When the bell rang for dismissal, I hid in the girls bathroom. I two bottles of water and my lunch that I didn't eat earlier, so I was completly set for food and water. I had my phone and my iPod, so I had entertainment. I just refused to go home, back to that monster.
Unfortunatly, the janitor found me about three hours after school was dismissed, and called my dad. It was my worst nightmare. When my dad finally got to the school and picked me up, the car ride home was completely silent. I kept imagining the things he would do to me when we got to the privacy of my own house.
The weird thing was, he didn't do anything. He walked in the house and was in his room the rest of the day. As usual.
Now I'm 16, and my dad is drunk, angry, and in my room without any witnesses.
I immediatly hid; he couldn't concentrate whenever he was in his drunken state. If I was hidden, he wouldn't be able to look for me. I held my breath under the covers of my bed, trying my hardest not to move. Hearing heavy footsteps faint now, I peeked my head from the covers. He was gone, but left the door open. I didn't care if he was coming back or not, or if he was going to get something to beat me with. Running for my life, heart racing, I approached the door and slammed it shut, locking it so he could not get in.
I rested my head against the door for what seemed like ages before falling to the floor. I lay there until I fell asleep. The last thing I heard before my eyelids finally shut was a loud thud, from where my father probably fell to sleep.
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129,893 Literary Works • 671,510 Reviews
Thank you for a story on abuse. There need to be more stories that tell the straight up facts about abuse, instead of glorifying it.
On to nitpicking:
When you said, "was merely too dark" I believe that merely is used incorrectly, otherwise it's just killing the mood.
"Oh god, I thought." Oh god should be in italics as well as "my dad".
"Now I'm 16, and my dad is drunk, angry, and in my room without any witnesses." I don't feel as though this sentence is really necessary. I think that you should just separate the flash back from the current story with an extra space.
" Running for my life..." She's not running for her life. Her life may be in danger, and she may be running, but this is not correct. Running for one's life implies that they are running away from something. She's running to the door.
You never really clarify the extent of his abuse. The character seems to care very little for herself other than she wants to stay away from her father and it doesn't seem as though she wants to avoid him because of his abuse. It just seems as though she doesn't like him. Perhaps show that she is getting in trouble at school because of the violent tendencies that he's teaching her or show that a teacher or a friend is concerned upon finding bruises or scars.
I liked this piece very much. Keep it up!
I wish this story had been a longer. I liked the details and the way everything seemed to flow together. What also could have helped visualizing this story is maybe describe what the characters looked like and maybe even a background story of how her mother died for an emotional response from the reader. Other than that, this is great and I hope you write more stories
This was really good, I enjoyed it. There were really no big errors that I saw, only a few minor things---you repeated a few words a couple of times, but that's not a big deal.
There were a couple of little typos, for example you wrote: "...but whenever he came home from the bar he'd go upstaires." Upstairs should be spelled without the E. But typos really don't matter all that much.
As for the story, I think it could've used some polish. Beyond that, though, it held my interest and was pretty realistic. Not too exaggerated, which stories about abuse can sometimes be. Nice job! You should consider making a part two to this.
Thanks! I really like criticism from readers so I can improve my stories. I appreciate you letting me know about my typos, sometimes my computer isn't the best with catching errors. Yikes! I hope to write a second part soon, and maybe use a second part as a way to go more in depth in her background story.
Sure thing! I'll be excited to read the second part.