This chapter is a little violent (in my opinion at least), so if you have delicate ears or eyes and cannot stand to read it, leave a comment and I'll fill you in on what happened without going into detail. It was very difficult writing this chapter because it pained me what I was putting Kylar through..ahh but for characterisation's sake, I had to. Sorry Kylar :'( 

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Monday |

I'm screwed. Screwed to the moon and back. Dad's gonna be so flippin' mad ohmigosh ohmigosh ohmigosh.

I practically sprinted down the sidewalk, all the while trying my best not to let the feeling of impending doom swallow me whole. Perspiration gathered in the folds of my palms, loosening my grip on the bag of beer I clenched tightly.

As I rounded the bend to my house, the lone light from my living room shone eerily, cold and blue and devoid of anything lovely. It was the kind of blue that reminded me of the sterility apparent in my life, the lack of love and kindness so different from the way Alistair lived.

Why am I still thinking about him? Thanks to his distractingly beautiful face I forgot all about Dad's beer, now I'm thirty minutes late. Frick.

I felt a wave of nauseating fear wash over me, as I quiveringly turned the doorknob. Stepping in hesitantly, my eyes glued themselves to the floor, and I bit my lip, uncertain of whether or not to wake the mountain of my Dad who had dozed off after his 12th can of beer. I mentally weighed the stakes I risked, and decided on leaving the bag on the table without waking him.

As gently as I could, I placed the bag of beer cans onto the table without making a sound. Casting a glance at my father, he was still fast asleep, limbs sprawled all over the couch. I internally heaved a sigh of relief, praying that he would wake to see the bag of drink when he was more sober. I softly turned on my heels and crept towards my room as silently as I possibly could.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I froze, blood draining from my face. It felt as if my breath was knocked out of my lungs, as I gasped hard but couldn't breathe.

The sound of clumsy feet shuffling towards me was deafening in the silence of the night, and I felt my stomach flip as he stopped a couple paces away from me.

"Sweetheart. How was your trip to the store?" His words were icy cold, laced with the malice that I've heard all too often. I gulped, tearing my gaze away from his eyes, which threatened to reduce me to a pile of shame and nothingness.

Breathe, Ky, breathe.

"Sorry I..I got lost along the way," I lied weakly, my voice coming out strangled.

"Of course, of course you got lost. It's completely possible for my dearest daughter to lose her way along the streets she's lived at all her life!" His voice grew increasingly menacing with each word, dripping with contempt and fury.

I shuddered, not because of the way his words lashed at me, but because I knew what was coming next. I watched as his eyes grew ablaze with anger, a deep anger that was probably suppressed for the longest time, and trembled hard, knowing I was going to be the victim of his wrath, as I always was. Each stride he took pummelled me with a wave of trepidation, and I found myself closing my eyes to avert his gaze.

I heard a bloodcurdling cry just as his palm swiped across my left cheek, stinging and burning. It took me a moment to realise I was the one who let out that animalistic scream, but the few seconds of respite were short-lived, as I felt my hair yanked roughly in an upward motion, my face only a few centimetres away from his.

"You can't even do something as simple as buy some alcohol from the store right! What a good for nothing just like your mother!"

With that, he pushed me to the wall, the impact dizzying my head. My heartbeat was erratically fast, my breath short and shallow. Terror gripped my heart and threatened to spill tears, but I held back the river, unwilling to break down in front of him. He staggered forward, hazy from all the alcohol, and grabbed my face, pounding my head against the wall repeatedly. I felt my vision blur, but whether it was because of the tears clouding my vision or the impact, I was not sure. Please, just stop. Stop doing this to me. My heart pleaded piously, but my lips had lost their way with words. 

"Kylar f***ing Jenson, go to h**l!" He growled, raising his right hand above me, and dealing me another painful blow on my already swollen cheek. I screamed for all my worth, the unmistakable metallic taste of fresh blood on my tongue. Reaching gingerly for my cheek, I found the skin at the corner of my lips had split, and the feeling of wet blood greeted my trembling fingers. 

I abhorred what he did to me, how he reduced me to nothingness over and over, how he rendered me powerless time and again. I felt small and broken, but the worst part was I could not bring myself to hate him. No matter how much I tried, I somehow believed he was doing this to me because I deserved it, because I really was useless. 

"I..I'm sorry..it wouldn't happen again," I choked out, covering my face with my hand. He looked at me long and hard, his deathly glare sending chills down my spine. 

"Get out my sight. Get lost now!" He barked, kicking my stomach a few times before heading back to the couch. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the searing pain that spread across my lower abdomen. Gently, I propped myself onto my bed, refusing to let the tears start pouring again. Dad isn't always like this. It's only when he's drunk, I lied to myself, coaxing my shaking self to stop. The only problem is he's always drunk. I felt a teardrop trickle down my swollen cheek, it's path stinging my sore skin. The sky outside was dark and cold; even the moon couldn't bear to look at my despicable plight. At the very least, Mom wasn't home. She didn't have to get dealt a blow by him too; whenever she was around she'd try to fight for me, somewhat half-heartedly, and wind up hurt too. But though she was safe today, it didn't mean she would be tomorrow. I loathed my father for doing this to me, and my mother for not being there when I needed her, but mostly I hated myself for being the cause of all this. Without me, their life expenses would be way lower, and they wouldn't be the broken people they were today. I felt hopeless, and didn't know what to do, so I prayed. 

It feels as though the walls around
Are closing in, towards me
My heart is heavy, full and sore
My head a bitter clanging.

Some days are fine some days are not Life in my head is out of sorts Confused, too much, I want to stop
I want to end it all.
Send help, dear Lord, please help me see
The light; please hear my pious pleas, Shed hope and keep me close to you,
As days and time shall past.
I know you're there, I know you love
I know in you I root my worth,
So please, I pray through this lone night
That all would be okay.  

In the comfort between the bleak walls of my room, I hugged my knees, keeping myself warm in my embrace.