•Gabriel•Michael•White•
"This is for your own good!" He says calmly-To calmly-As he removes the belt from around his waist. I stare at him in fear, wide-eyed, and then I'm running, tripping over the carpet, towards the stairs, I have to go up the stairs, I have to, because then I can lock the door, and I'll be safe-But then the grip latches onto my shoulder, just as I reach the third step, and I know all is lost.
I close my eyes, and I stop moving. I let myself drop, thumping down the stairs, and though it hurts, it's not as bad as what I've been through before. When I land on the floor, I curl up into a tight ball, waiting for the searing pain to course through me, a white-hot flash that leaves marks on my body, ones that refuse to leave.
For a moment, there is no pain, and I allow myself to hope, for a mere second, that he will let me go. But then the lashings come, quick, fast, and the only sound that tops my muffled screams and tears is the laughing, the terrifying, crazy, manic cackling of my father. My father. He is my father, and he is my downfall.
~'~'~
I sit up fast, breath coming to me in short, painful gasps. There is a hand pressed tightly to my chest, nails digging into my bare chest, but it doesn't hurt. How can it? I've run out of pain to feel. I have nothing more to give. No more tears, no more sobs, nothing. I am a shell.
Glancing over at the clock on my bedside table, I sigh quietly. If I'm to loud, he might wake up-My father is still a light sleeper, after all these years. If I wake him up, it won't be pretty-And that is proved by the latest mark marring my pale, marked body. I woke him up from his nap early this afternoon, and for that, he threw a broken beer bottle at me. It didn't hurt. I went into the bathroom, picked out each and every shard, cleaned up the blood, put on bandages, changed into clean clothes, and that was it.
No tears. No crying. No pity, no sympathy.
I still have a couple hours until morning-Until I must face the hell they call 'highschool' once more. Technically, I don't have to go. I could drop out, spend all day with my gang, rather than just a few hours at a time. And still, I know that's impossible, because I need to graduate, and with a scholarship, to. Scholarship means college, college means degree, and degree means job, which, in turn, means I can finally ship my ass out of this hellhole. So, no, I was not going to drop out.
Though I'm terrified of the nightmares, I know I have to sleep, so I lay my head back down on the pillow. I'm asleep sooner than I thought I would be, deep in a memory-But this one is different. It's not a memory of my father, or of my own pain. Instead, it's of her.
~'~'~
"Stop it!" She screams, flailing her scabbed arms as she tries to beat me off of her. It won't work, though, and we both know it. I've got a tight hold on both of her blonde pigtails, pulling as hard as I can, dragging her around like some sort of abused dog. We're only in kindergarten, and already, I'm a cruel, broken mess of a child. No one else can see the broken part, of course, because no one knows about my Daddy. No one knows how damaged I am. All they see is the damage I do, rather than receive. And it kills me. I am dying, and I am only five.
"Stop it, Gabriel!" She screeches again, and I'm not paying attention to her, even though I'm still dragging her about. Instead I'm grinning maliciously at the playground monitor who doesn't seem to know what to do with herself as she fumbles for her walkie-talkie, speaking hushed words into it. She's calling for backup-What does she think, I'm going to start shooting up the place? Pfft, I'm five.
No, it's only _____ I want to hurt. I want to hurt her because she has what I want, and I want it bad. She makes me upset, and I want her to be upset, to. She's happy. She skips, she laughs, she tells jokes, she's funny. No. She's to optimistic, and I don't like that. So I do what I do best, what Daddy tells me I do best.
I ruin her.
~'~'~
I wake up when my alarm goes off, quickly slapping it off. I have twenty minutes to be dressed and ready for the day. I normally make it out the door in ten. I walk to the high school, since I'm only a block or two away, and I don't trust my father enough to give me a ride without trying to smash the car into a tree or something.
Unfortunately for me, my build, small and lean, doesn't allow me the ability to fight back against my father. I'm unnaturally short for my age, 5'3,'' and would probably be teased about it, if not for the fact that I had the entire school, including the teacher population, scared stiff of me. Someone so much as looks at me, and I'll just about their rip their head off. Plus, I gained a bit of a reputation when I beat the star of the football team, the head jock, into a pulp on my first day of high school. He was a senior. I was a freshman.
I throw on a band t-shirt and black jeans, as well as some converse and my favorite beanie hat, not in the mood for anything fancy. Then again, am I ever in the mood?
I'm out even quicker than usual-He's not even up yet, thank god. I don't need to see his stupid face, it would ruin a day that was already spiraling downwards. Halfway through my walk, I pull out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and placing it delicately between my lips. They say smoking'll kill you, and somewhere, in the back of my mind, I know that is what I am waiting for. Death.
When I arrive, it doesn't take me long to single her out from the crowd of excited students, chattering away, eager to see their friends after the three month time span. I walk up to her, grinning, knowing full well that she sees me. "Hey, buttercup." I drawl lazily, blowing a smoke ring in her face. "Want one?" I flash the box of cigarettes at her, but know she won't take one. She's terrified stiff of me, knows that if she says one wrong word, she'll be naked and tied to the flagpole in a flash.
{{I'm sorry it's so long and awful, but I had a random muse burst, and had to get it all out. :P I hope it isn't to bad~Gabriel's name is ironic, and if you don't know why, I'll gladly tell you! :P}}
