Chapter One. 

I tapped my trembling hands against my thighs under the table as my legs shook; my shoes tapping nervously on the floor as I watched the clock on the wall above the white board.

I, along with the rest of my lower sixth maths class had found ourselves being kept behind after school because the majority of the class had not bothered to complete their homework. Mr. Rogers sat at the front of the class, his eyes scanning the room for any sort of movement out of place whilst those that hadn't done their homework hurriedly did it under his watchful gaze. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of pens scribbling against paper and I was sure that everyone could hear my laboured breathing in the otherwise silent class room.

It had already been fifteen minutes since the bell had run signalling the end of the school day and as time passed I grew even more panicked. I was sure that my face had drained of its natural creamy colour whilst sweat beads gathered on my forehead. I was a ball of nerves as my eyes darted around the room before returning to watch the clock as if it would magically speed up so that I could leave.

I knew that I was going to be in trouble as soon as I walked through the front door, I just didn't know how much. He was going to be angry when I didn't walk through the door before 4o'clock and he was going to be even more angry as I was sure to embarrass him in front of his work friends that would be there.

He prided himself on having the perfect family. My mum was the perfect house wife, she didn't have a job instead she spent her days at home, cleaning, washing and cooking whilst presenting herself perfectly. She always wore a tight pencil skirt with a blouse tucked in and heels, her brown hair that I had inherited, was always up in an elegant bun while her make-up was light but flawless. It didn't matter that she wasn't going out; he liked her to be presentable at all times.

I wasn't the perfect teenage daughter that he wanted. It didn't matter how hard I tried at school or at home, I was, and never could be perfect in his eyes. It wasn't a secret to me that he had wanted a son instead of a daughter. I knew that it was because he thought that I was incapable of taking over the family business, his private business that I knew nothing about; that he went out of his way to make sure that I knew nothing about. I had no idea what he did or where our income came from.

It didn't help that I looked more like my mum than him. He was disappointed that the only feature we shared was our eyes; a feature I hated because they were identical to his. Our eyes were a bright green colour, the colour of grass on a summer's day or an emerald gem polished and cleaned until it sparkled in the dullest light. Our eyes weren't just a unique shade of green but what made them unique were the golden flecks that fanned out around our black irises.

The genetic mutation has always confused me as I had never thought that it would be possible to have such a feature but I was living proof that it was possible.

The rest of my features I had inherited from my mum. I had gotten her small frame standing five foot two; an entire foot and a bit shorter than him. I had gotten my curly brown hair from my mum, the splash of freckles across the top of my cheeks and the bridge of my nose and my red cupids bow lips. I looked just like my mum, small and feminine, or in his eyes; weak and useless. I was nothing like the son he desired and he loathed me for it.

I pulled the sleeve of my jumper further down my arm so that I could hold it around my palm with my fingers. It was a habit that I had developed a few years ago from trying to hide the bruises around my wrist from where he would grab me with bruising force whenever he thought I had done something bad. I was currently hiding the week old yellow and green bruise that I had gotten for taking a day off school because of the stomach flu that I had gotten. I had returned to school the next day only to spend it in the nurse's office throwing up as I told them that no one would be at home to take care of me.

"Shh!" A hiss to my left has me slowly turned to see Jason Wilson glaring at me whilst he gave my shaking legs a pointed look. I instantly stopped my feet from tapping against the floor as my knees quivered, knocking against each other as the unwanted attention would cause trouble if he ever found out.

"Yes?" Mr. Rogers snapped from the front as I looked to see that he was staring directly at me. My breath caught in my throat as I feared that he had seen the exchange between me and Jason and I would find myself in even more trouble, he would not like that.

"I've finished sir." Jenny, the girl that always sat behind me in this class said as I felt my shoulder's sag a little in relief that he hadn't caught onto the exchange between me and Jason moment ago.

"Put it in the tray on my desk," Mr. Rogers said as he leaned forward on his desk whilst he thought for a moment, "I'd like you all to put your homework in the tray, whether it's completed or not."

I could hear the many sighs of relief that floated through the 'not so silent room' anymore. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor could be heard as my classmates got to their feet. I grabbed my backpack from the floor as I stood up; my eyes focused on the door as I put it over my shoulder and tucked my chair underneath my single desk.

"Esme, I'd like to you to stay behind please." Mr. Rogers called out casually. I felt my entire body tense as I slowly made my way to the front of the class where I stood in front of his desk, my head down as I felt the majority of my class stare at me as they came to put their homework in the tray before walking off.

It took less than less than two minutes for everyone to make their way out of the classroom, leaving me and Mr. Rogers by ourselves. I wanted him to hurry up and speak as I nervously pulled down the sleeve of my jumper so that it would cover my bruised wrist. I could see through my lashes that Mr. Rogers had followed the movement, his grey eyes hidden behind his glasses widened slightly as I hid the bruise from his view a second later.

"Is everything okay Esme?" Mr. Rogers asked softly as I stared at him wide eyed. I had never heard Mr. Rogers voice so soft in the entire time that he had been my teacher.

It wasn't the real reason that he had asked me to stay behind and I knew he was momentarily distracted. I knew that he was talking about the bruise on my wrist that I had tried to keep hidden from his sight and I was oddly touched that he cared enough to ask but I couldn't tell him. My father had threatened many times what would happen to me and to my mum if anyone ever found out and I shuddered at the thought.

"Everything's fine Sir." I knew that he could hear the lie in my voice; I could even hear the lie as I silently pleaded with my eyes for him to drop the subject. My eyes darted to the clock on the wall to see that I had been kept behind for a total of eighteen minutes causing my knees to shake as I shifted from one foot to the other.

Mr. Rogers cleared his throat as he sat up in his seat and I knew that he was going to talk about the real reason that he had asked me to stay behind, "your grades are slowly slipping, you used to have an A average but now you are slipping to a B. I know it's not a huge drop but if you keep it up by the end of the term you will be scraping by with a C."

Mr. Rogers had kept his voice soft, it was unusual as I had expected him to be shouting and demanding that I work harder whilst threatening to kick me out of the class. I could see the worry in his eyes, the small frown that had stayed in place since he saw my bruised wrist. He was thinking about it; the bruise, and it wouldn't be long before everything clicked and when it did he was sure to tell someone.

I could feel a lump develop in my throat as I gripped the back strap tighter and my eyes darted to the door. I was already late and the longer I stayed talking the more trouble I would get in. I had to leave, I was going to regret fleeing from Mr. Rogers' class but I had stayed long enough.

"I'll try a lot harder Sir, I promise just give me some more time." I practically begged. Mr. Rogers was old fashioned and it wouldn't be long before he sent a letter, and then phoned my house to tell my parents that I was falling behind and I couldn't have that.

"Esme, I-" He began, his frown deepening on his already wrinkled face.

"I'm sorry, I've got to go." I cut him off.

I didn't waste any more time as I turned on my heels and ran towards the door. I could hear Mr. Rogers calling my name behind me whilst asking me to stop, but I didn't listen as I threw open the classroom door and headed down the hallway. I was surprised to see that a few students still in the corridor looking up from what they were doing to look at me as I ran past them, ignoring their gazes as they heard Mr. Rogers calling my name from behind me.

I was out of the school entrance within a matter of seconds and I raced down the steps and across the student car park, a few cars in still in bays. I passed the coach park to see that all the buses had left and I felt my heart sink that little bit lower as I ran through the middle. It took fifteen minutes in the bus to get from the school to my house and it was going to take me much longer to run the whole way.

I slipped my arm through my back pack's other strap as I pulled it higher onto my back so that it wouldn't fall off as I ran along the pavement and past many people that stared at me as if I was crazy. I squinted as I felt raindrops begin to fall from the sky landing on my face and hair, already soaking my clothes as I pushed myself harder.

He was going to be even angrier when I arrived home looking like a drowned rat in front of his business colleagues. I pushed the few strands of my hair behind my ear that had fallen free from my messy bun and stuck to my now wet face. I hadn't realised that I was crying until I could taste salty droplets on my parted lips as I pushed myself to run even faster through the pouring rain.

My legs were burning and my chest felt tight but I didn't stop, I couldn't stop sprinting as I knew that the later I arrived home the angrier he would be.

I could feel my heart beat rapidly against my chest not only from the adrenaline pumping through my body but from fear of what was going to happen. It was inevitable that I was going to be punished from being late and embarrassing him but I didn't know what punishment I would get. My footsteps faltered their assault on the wet pavement below me paused as I briefly thought about running the other way.

I could run away and never look back. I had thought about running away many times and all those times they had only been in my head for a few seconds. It would be selfish to run away and leave my mum at the hands of him, she was only a shell of her former self and I didn't know what would happen if I left her on her own with him. I wouldn't do that to my mum and I knew that she was probably suffering now for my absence.

I could see through squinted eyes that I was that I was quickly approaching the lane that led to my house; the bus stop could be seen at the entrance. The house was too big, with three stories it was too big for three people but I knew that he likes to show off his wealth and having a big house that he invited most of his colleagues or clients to just so that they could see how rich his was, how perfect his life was and the power that he had.

I came to a stop in front of the large white front door to. My chest was heaving as my shoulders moved rapidly up and down and I gasped for air; although I had stopped running my entire body ached and burned. My mouth felt dry and fear clawed its way up my throat momentarily choking me as I walked up the three stairs and onto the porch, my legs wobbled causing my knees to knock together as I reached out and grasped the copper door handle with a shaking hand.

It took a small flick of the wrist for the front door to open as I let it swing wide displaying me to everyone in the living room where he sat on the sofa. I could see the back of his head as three of his work friends sat in front of him. He was holding a glass filled a third of the way up with what looked like whiskey. I couldn't suppress the shudder that ran up and down my spine as I realised that he had been drinking.

I forced myself to take a few steps into the entryway and I stood on the laminated floor dripping wet as the wind closed the door behind me. If he hadn't heard me arrive before he had now as I watched his work friends slowly look up, their conversation now forgotten. I stood frozen, my eyes wide as if I were an animal caught in a pair of headlights.

I saw from the corner of my eye my mum slowly make her way out of the kitchen, a look of relief crossing her soft features before they moulded into a look of horror and worry as I focused all my attention on him as he slowly stood up from where he had been sat down, the glass still in his hand.

It happened so fast that I barely had time to duck as he spun around and threw the glass at where I had been standing moments ago. The glass smashed against the wall behind me the sound filled the room followed by a soft, feminine gasp that I knew came from my mum as the glass shattered everywhere. I slowly stood from where I had been crouched down to avoid being hit by the glass. I kept my eyes on the floor as I heard the soft click of his expensive dress shoes hitting the wooden floor as he slowly advanced on me.

"You're late." His voice was deadly calm, the calm before the storm, as I stood where my feet had planted themselves to the ground as if stuck in concrete. I knew that I wasn't supposed to reply as I kept my lips shut tightly together in a thin, grim line.

"Why?" He shouted as I jumped. I looked up to see that he was a foot or two away from me, his posture calm and relaxed but the look on his face was murderous and I quickly looked back down to the wooden floor beneath my soaking wet shoes.

"A few of my maths class hadn't done their homework and so we all had to stay behind whilst they completed it," I spoke before quickly adding, "Sir."

It was humiliating to have to address him as Sir but it had been beaten into me since I was able to talk that I had to address him as Sir or I would suffer. It was now second nature for 'Sir' to slip onto the end of every sentence that I ever spoke to him, as well as cowering away and fearing his attention.

"Did you do your homework?" He asked as I saw his feet suddenly appear closer in my line of sight and I resisted the urge to cringe away from him.

I quickly nodded my head. I could feel the eyes of his colleagues on me as they continued to watch from the sofas. I wondered why they hadn't spoken up, why they were able to watch the scene unfold in front of them without comment. I guess the men were just as sick as he was and they were probably enjoying the event before them; the obvious distress and fear that I knew was rolling off of me in waves.

"I'm sorry what was that?" He asked as I quickly realised my mistake although I knew it was too late.

"Yes Sir." I muttered.

A startled scream escaped my lips as the back of his hand connected with my cheek sending me to the floor in a heap. The weight of my back pack filled with school books caused pain to shoot across my lower back as I bit down on my lower lip, eventually drawing blood as I knew that he didn't like me to make a sound. I could feel my cheek slowly turning a bright shade of red as a bruise was already forming.

"Get up." He snarled.

I slowly pushed myself up into a seating position, keeping my head down. I could already feel the slap affecting me as my head swam and my back and hips ached with pain. An impatient huff could be heard before the strap of my back pack was roughly grabbed and I was hauled to my feet; the straps painfully tugged at my shoulders and down my arms in a swift movement.

I swayed where I stood, the ringing in my ears slowly becoming unbearable as my wet clothes clung to me outlining every curve and dip of my body; hugging it to the point where it was uncomfortable. My teeth began to chatter against each other from the cold caused by my wet clothes.

I barely had time to recover from the blow to my face as my body was slammed against the wall with such force that the air was knocked out of me. A hand was wrapped around my neck, slowly cutting off my air supply as I was lifted off of the ground only being held up by his hand that was wrapped around my throat. I looked up with wide eyes as I stared into and identical pair of green eyes. My hands came up and clasped themselves around his as I desperately tried to get him off of me, clawing at the bare skin on his hands; drawing blood but nothing seemed to faze him as he glared at me.

"I don't appreciate you waltzing in late and looking like some sort of wild animal," he sneered in my face as I desperately tried to breathe, I could feel my lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen, "you've embarrassed me in front of my friends as well as your mother and yourself."

I began to kick my legs trying to hit him and hopefully make him let me go as I looked over his shoulder to see that his friends were now standing, their glasses in hand as they watched with sadistic smiles on their faces, as if this were the evening entertainment.

A sob could be heard as I looked to see my mum slowly edging closer, tears rolling down her pale cheeks as she held a hand to her mouth. I shook my head at her, silently begging her to stay where she was and out of harm's way.

I could see black spots appearing in my vision as I desperately thrashed my limbs out in all different directions as I prayed that I would hit him hard enough for him to let me go. A roaring sound could be heard behind my ears as I felt myself slowly slipping away.

"Roger, let her go! You're killing her!" My mum shouted out despite my silent pleading for her to stay out of it.

I didn't know whether it was my mum's order or if he just grew bored but my throat was suddenly released as I collapsed on the floor in a heap. My forehead pressed against the wooden floor while I clutched my bruised throat with both of my hands as an endless amount of tears began to roll down my cheeks.

I knew that he hated me but I never thought he would go to such lengths as strangling me. I had seen the sadistic glint in his green eyes as he watched me struggle in his grasp. It made him feel powerful, more so than he already was, to him it was all about power and he didn't care what happened as long as he felt powerful.

"Get out of my sight." He hissed as he kicked my unprotected stomach causing a soundless scream to escape my cracked lips.

I didn't need to be told twice as I painfully scrambled to my feet, swaying as I began to run in the direction of the spiral staircase. I didn't look up as I ran; I was humiliated, hurt and embarrassed as I took the stairs two at a time, my wet clothes and bruised ribs slowing me down.

I was out of breath by the time I reached my bedroom which caused my throat to protest as well as my ribs and I shut the door quietly behind me and collapsed onto the floor. It didn't matter that I was still in my soaking wet clothes or that I still had my back pack on, what mattered was the darkness that was slowly overcoming me which would temporarily take me away from my life and him.

Him being my father.