I'm uploading like crazy here at the moment. XD But I had to write this! It just popped into my head in the middle of the night and I wrote a bit of this down on my Ipod that night. So...Enjoy. The first chapter might be a little depressing but the story gets better along the way. I promise!


Chapter 1-Living Hell

A hard slap at my cheek sent me stumbling back a couple steps away from him.

"You said you cleaned the place!" He shouted, advancing on me, his face full of anger.

"I-I did!" I gasped, my cheek still throbbing.

He narrowed his dark green eyes into a glare and I flinched. He was my stepfather.

My parents died when I was 18 and I've been living with my stepfather for three years. Everyday, he'd leave to go to work and I'd be home to clean the house or sit in the corner, bored. If he didn't approve of my cleaning job or if I did something wrong (which is almost anything,) he'd start to beat me with his hands.

"This isn't clean!" He shouted and grabbed me by my arm, pulling me up.

He dragged me into my room and threw me in, slamming the door behind him. I sat up; wiping tears away my face, with the back of my hand.

My room was a dull and colorless place. The walls were bare with no wallpaper or color. My bed was just an old mattress that lay on the empty floor, in the corner. The only source of light was a small lamp that sat on the ground next to my bed. There was a full-length mirror in the other corner of the room that was shattered and only had a couple shards of mirror still remaining.

I rubbed my aching check as I stood up and sat onto my bed. I buried my face in my hands and started to cry. I remembered receiving the news that my parents died in car crash. This was the only place for me to stay and my stepfather locked the doors and windows while he was gone, so I couldn't get out.

I stood up and walked over towards the shattered mirror. A slender girl with tan colored skin and a round face stared back to me. I blinked my dark blue eyes and my refection doing the same. I brushed a strained of my dark brown hair out of my face, watching my reflection as it did the same. A bruise was forming, where he had slapped me and I had several bruises on my arms, from him.

"Hey Alecia," My stepfather called from outside the door. "I'm going out to the casino tonight. Dinner's in the fridge."

"Alright." I answered and he unlocked the door, before leaving the house.

He goes to the casino every night and I'm left at the house to eat dinner, which was usually four drumsticks, rice, and green beans. I sighed and waited until he left before walking out my room. I didn't like people watching me when I ate. It just made me feel very uncomfortable. I walked out into the empty hallway, and towards the kitchen.

I opened the fridge and there was my dinner. Four drumsticks, rice, and green beans; the usual. I took the plate of food out and placed it onto the counter. I hopped onto the counter, next my dinner. I had to eat with my bare hands because he kept the silverware hidden somewhere and never let me use it. I sighed as I ate and began to wonder if I would be living my whole life like this.

I stared at the ceiling though the pitch darkness. I was lying on my bed, ready to sleep and very quiet. My cheek was still aching and so were my arms. I rolled onto my left side and rested my head on the hard pillow. I closed my eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

The sound of someone, opening the door, woke me up and my eyes opened. I groaned a bit, sleepily, while turning my body towards the door. I watched the shadow underneath the door, waiting to see if the person behind the door would open it, but the person passed by. I yawned before turning my body away again.

Then, a few minutes later, I heard the same sound of footsteps. I opened my eyes again, confused, but figured that it was just my stepfather pacing around the hallway, like he does every now and then. The footsteps stopped and I was growing anxious. I reached my hand under the pillow and grabbed the handle of the butter knife that I kept under my pillow, but never used it.

The door opened and the silhouette of a man, about 5'11" stepped in. My heart was beating really fast and my mind was racing. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I bolted up, holding the butter knife in a stabbing grip.

Okay. Well that's the first chapter! What do you guys think so far? Like I said before, the story gets better! I'll be updating as soon as I can. Please review and follow this story!