My Story, Lilly W [most interesting books to read .txt] 📗

Before I could react, I saw his hand coming towards my face. As his large hand made contact with my face, he hit my cheek, lip, and nose. I leaned forwards and held my head in my hands. I could feel warmth in my hands and as I looked up, there was a pool of blood in my cupped hands. I ran into the bathroom as quickly as I could and grabbed a cloth from the cabinet. I held my hands and face over the sink, and let the blood rush down the drain along with the water. As I un-cupped my hands, I rinsed them and put the wet cloth to my nose. The cloth absorbed the blood as I sat down on the floor and cried. This caused the hatred I had for my father grow along with the part of me that wanted so badly to run as far away from here as possible. Once I sat up again to rewet the cloth, my lip had swollen up and stung from my father's powerful strike. Once again, the water had rinsed away with a red tint. My face throbbed as I wiped the blood from my cheeks and nose. My father walked up to the door and knocked on the door. I told him to leave me alone but he just kept talking. He told me that I had anger issues and that he was sorry , but I knew he didn’t mean it. A sat on the floor for about 20 more minutes waiting for him to leave.

Once he left to go to bed, I slowly cracked the door open and looked out to make sure the coast was clear. Once I was sure that he was asleep, I headed into my small room to go to bed. I was too tired to put my pajamas on that I just went to sleep in what I was wearing. I close my eyes and folded my hands to pray. Once I had finished, I put my head onto the soft, welcoming pillow and drifted slowly off to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, my father had already left to go help his friend finnish a small house that they had been working on since the beginning of summer. The house was located about three miles from here and was in the middle of nowhere. I can’t understand why anyone would want to live there, but they did. I didn’t have anyone to talk to because my sister was still at her friends house and my dad took away my phone last night before he had struck me. I felt tears come to my eyes as the home phone started to ring. When I answered it, I knew right away that it was my father. I heard him yell some cuss words at me, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. All I could make out was “It’s all your fault, if you weren’t such a ******* baby, you wouldn’t have gotten into trouble” and “You should get your head out of your *** and act like a woman rather than a worthless baby!” I felt tears come to my eyes and I hung up the phone. I was not only sad, but very upset. I sat down when something shiny caught my eye. It was my father’s pocket knife. I then wiped the tears from my cheek and looked down at my small wrist. I knew that I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it. I grabbed the knife, opened it and put the sharp blade to my wrist. As I put pressure on the blade. I could see a thin drop of blood drip slowly down my wrist. I whimpered as the sharp blade cut through my soft skin. The drip of blood turned into a small river running from my wrist to the surface of the table. I pulled the blade out of the gash on my wrist and did it again. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t. Once I had five deep cuts on my wrist, I decided to stop because the pain was getting really bad. I got a clean cloth from the cupboard and put it on my throbbing wrist. I could hear my dad pull up in the driveway, so I whipped up the blood with a dirty rag, and I ran into the bathroom. As I locked the door, I heard my dad open the door and yell my name. I told him I was going to the bathroom and I heard him sit down in his spot on the couch where he usually sa to watch the tv. As I heard the tv flick on, I looked down at my arm and started to cry. I looked around and saw my sweater that I left in the bathroom from earlier and put it on. When I looked in the mirror, I say my black mascara running down my face. I wiped away my hot tears and walked to the door, careful not to make any noise. I walked into my room, locked my door, and laid down on my bed. The soft blankets welcomed me with their softness.

I looked around the room and didn’t see my sister. I knew she would be out in the living room with my father and I was scared. My father wasn’t someone who you would want to be alone with. I just prayed that he wouldn’t get upset and hurt her. There is a large scar on her back from my father whipping her with a belt. The scar runs from her right shoulder blade to her right hip. I have many scars too, but mine are smaller and spread all over my back. I also have bruises all over my legs and stomach. I didn’t like how it felt when I was alone because he could easily do something to me. He could do like he always does and hurt me in some way. As my head touched the soft pillow, I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, my sister wasn’t in our room. I was worried but I didn’t want to get up and face my dad, but I needed to make sure my sister was ok. I got up from my bed and quietly put my ear to the door and listened. I could tell that my dad was asleep, but I didn’t hear my sister so I began to worry. I opened the door as quietly as I could, but It creaked as I opened it. I looked over to the couch to make sure he was still asleep and luckily he was. I saw my sister laying on the wooden floor and walked over to her. As I approached her sleeping body, I shook her to try and wake her up. She groaned quietly and got up to a sitting position. As she turned towards me,  I could see a large purple circle around her left eye. I knew immediately that my father had punched her. I moved her blond curls away from her face to examine the wound. I could tell that she was still tired so I carried her into the bedroom, locked the door, and put her on the bed. I could tell she was still in pain, so I let her go back to bed. I then opened the door and walked into the small bathroom. I looked in the mirror and and I felt anger. I grabbed one of the pony holders off the counter, put it on my wrist, and started to brush my thick blond hair into a ponytail. I could feel the pony holder rubbing on the large cuts going across my wrist and clenched my teeth together in pain.

When I walked back into my room, I grabbed a light blue t-shirt, jeans, and a sweatshirt. Once I had gotten dressed, I got up to get something to eat. When I walked into the kitchen, I saw my father sitting at the table drinking a beer. I walked over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, but when I turned around, I tripped on the carpet and fell. My father was yelling and cussing at me and I just slipped.

“You have no right to tell me what to do, and if you keep treating me like ****, I will tell the police that you hit us!”

I saw him raise his hand up and he threw the beer bottle at me. It hit the left side of my face and blood rushed out of the wound like a river.

“If you tell the police anything, I will shoot you in the face!” he yelled. I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I ran over to the closet to grab a cloth, and put it to my head. I  could tell that my father was really drunk, but I also knew that he would do anything he could to keep me from telling the police. The blood from my head wouldn’t stop running. So I grabbed some extra clothes, and ran into my bedroom. As I sat on the floor, my vision got blurry and I could feel hot tears start to run down my face. All I could think was that I needed to get somewhere far away from here, and soon.

I stayed in my bedroom with my sister the rest of the day. We didn’t even get up to eat. That night, once my sister and dad were asleep, I got up and walked over to my dresser. I took all the clothes I had and put them in a backpack. I then gathered most of my belongings along with water, my phone cord, and my money. I then walked over to the door and opened it gingerly. Once the door was open far enough for me to slip through the opening, I walked into the kitchen and grabbed my phone. Luckily, I had just charged it so it was still at 97%. I walked back into the bedroom and grabbed my backpack. As I stood up, I heard my sister sit up.

“What are you doing?” she asked me in a sleepy tone.

“Nowhere that concerns you.” I said back in a quiet, reluctant voice.

“Can I come with you?” she asked.

“No!”

“Why?” she asked. We continued to argue back and forth until I told her that I was running away.

“Can I come too?” she asked after a long pause. I didn’t want to at first, but I decided to let her because I couldn’t leave her here with my father.

She started to pack her things and once she finished, we made a plan.