Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Abuse ❯ chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: yuki taisho 
This is a oneshot i wrote two years ago, and found recently. Its basicly about a young girl being abused.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 04.12.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 980 | Visits: 399 | Status: Completed
This is a oneshot i wrote two years ago, and found recently. Its basicly about a young girl being abused.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 04.12.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 980 | Visits: 399 | Status: Completed
Abuse
I clutched the phone tightly to my chest as I took sharp intakes of breath that stung my chest. It felt like my rib was broken, but I couldn’t be sure. As I sat in the small, dusty closet I listened carefully for any sounds from my father. He was easily heard in the living room. Carefully, trying not to make a sound, I dialed 911 and waited.
“Hello, this is 911, what is your emergency?” A calm voice answered.
I wanted to speak, I really did, but as I tried to get my voice out I choked up from fear of being caught; only soft sobs could escape my throat, which hurt my chest even more.
“Hello? Are you there?” That calm voice broke though the silence.
“Please…” I tried again. It came out as a small, broken whisper.
“Hello? If you can not talk then tap on the phone twice if you can hear me”
I quickly tapped twice.
“Ok, good, can you tell me your age?” silence. “No? Can you tap it and I’ll count it?”
Again, I tapped…..one…two…three…four…five…six.
“If I’m not mistaken, you are six years old?” the woman asked. I tapped twice.
The sound of plates crashing could be heard close by. My father would find me soon, I could never hide from him long.
“Hello? What is going on? Are you alright?”
“Please…” I sobbed; “help…” sobs racked my body even harder; it hurt so much.
"Please, stay on the phone. I am tracking your call and will send you help very soon...” she sounded panicked now.
Only silence answered her. I could not tell that lady where I lived…For my whole life, I had never been allowed to go outside, and my father would never tell me the address. I didn’t know what to do. More things were crashing, and it was getting closer.
"Please, don't hang up the phone..."
All of sudden the door was forced open and banged on the wall so hard that it seemed that it would fall off its hinges from the force. I dropped the phone and stared in shock and fright as the woman on the other side was forgotten.
"There you are! What are you doing hiding in here, you little brat!" My father, a strong, tall man, yelled in my face; a deafening sound. As fast as lightning he had grabbed my arm and pulled me from the closet.
Please! Please, stop...’ I begged. He only ignored me. Glaring, he sent a blow to my face.
“Shut your mouth! You're good for nothing, don't you dare speak back to me!" He slapped me again, with enough force to make my head spin to the side. I hissed from the pain I felt. I gently put my hand on it and it only stung more. It would surely have a terrible, dark purple bruise.
I cried out in pain as I was thrown to the wall. I fell to the floor and clutched my side; this time I was sure my ribs were broken. My vision blurred slightly from the pain, but soon my father kicked me hard in the stomach and I came back to my senses.
“You see what I have to do?! It's because you’re such a horrible child!” he yelled as he picked me up by my collar of my worn out dress. I wasn't prepared for the punch I got in the face and recoiled back from it as my father let me go at that moment. Blood leaked from my nose; my lip was spilt open lip and stained my already ripped dress. It had already many stains from my father’s beatings that I got day in and day out. Today, he seemed much worse then he usual was; he never broke any bones, or, make bruises in places I couldn’t hide with my clothes, for fear of being caught.
He kept punching and kicking me relentlessly. It had only been a few minutes and yet it felt like hours to me. I felt like I would black out any moment. i had lost a lot of blood and the pain was intense. Just the pain from this kept me awake. It was agony. He yelled at me until his voice was hoarse.
He threw me as far as he could again, onto the opposite wall. During the beating he had gone around my small room, destroying every little thing that I loved, which wasn’t much, my one doll, my crayons, but worst of all, the only picture I had of my deceased mother, the only who had been kind to me.
My head hit the wall so hard the blood splattered over the wall .by that time; he finally let me fall back to the floor. With ought another word he walked out of the room. He left me bleeding and beaten on the floor, knowing I would still be alive once dawn came again. This is what he always did. Keep me alive and it pained me to live in such a way my entire life. Anything would be better then this, even death.
my eye lids felt heavy. I blinked, trying to stay awake, but to no avail. my eyes closed and i took hard intakes a breath, saving my strength for the next time my father came for me. This was my hell I could never escape.
I clutched the phone tightly to my chest as I took sharp intakes of breath that stung my chest. It felt like my rib was broken, but I couldn’t be sure. As I sat in the small, dusty closet I listened carefully for any sounds from my father. He was easily heard in the living room. Carefully, trying not to make a sound, I dialed 911 and waited.
“Hello, this is 911, what is your emergency?” A calm voice answered.
I wanted to speak, I really did, but as I tried to get my voice out I choked up from fear of being caught; only soft sobs could escape my throat, which hurt my chest even more.
“Hello? Are you there?” That calm voice broke though the silence.
“Please…” I tried again. It came out as a small, broken whisper.
“Hello? If you can not talk then tap on the phone twice if you can hear me”
I quickly tapped twice.
“Ok, good, can you tell me your age?” silence. “No? Can you tap it and I’ll count it?”
Again, I tapped…..one…two…three…four…five…six.
“If I’m not mistaken, you are six years old?” the woman asked. I tapped twice.
The sound of plates crashing could be heard close by. My father would find me soon, I could never hide from him long.
“Hello? What is going on? Are you alright?”
“Please…” I sobbed; “help…” sobs racked my body even harder; it hurt so much.
"Please, stay on the phone. I am tracking your call and will send you help very soon...” she sounded panicked now.
Only silence answered her. I could not tell that lady where I lived…For my whole life, I had never been allowed to go outside, and my father would never tell me the address. I didn’t know what to do. More things were crashing, and it was getting closer.
"Please, don't hang up the phone..."
All of sudden the door was forced open and banged on the wall so hard that it seemed that it would fall off its hinges from the force. I dropped the phone and stared in shock and fright as the woman on the other side was forgotten.
"There you are! What are you doing hiding in here, you little brat!" My father, a strong, tall man, yelled in my face; a deafening sound. As fast as lightning he had grabbed my arm and pulled me from the closet.
Please! Please, stop...’ I begged. He only ignored me. Glaring, he sent a blow to my face.
“Shut your mouth! You're good for nothing, don't you dare speak back to me!" He slapped me again, with enough force to make my head spin to the side. I hissed from the pain I felt. I gently put my hand on it and it only stung more. It would surely have a terrible, dark purple bruise.
I cried out in pain as I was thrown to the wall. I fell to the floor and clutched my side; this time I was sure my ribs were broken. My vision blurred slightly from the pain, but soon my father kicked me hard in the stomach and I came back to my senses.
“You see what I have to do?! It's because you’re such a horrible child!” he yelled as he picked me up by my collar of my worn out dress. I wasn't prepared for the punch I got in the face and recoiled back from it as my father let me go at that moment. Blood leaked from my nose; my lip was spilt open lip and stained my already ripped dress. It had already many stains from my father’s beatings that I got day in and day out. Today, he seemed much worse then he usual was; he never broke any bones, or, make bruises in places I couldn’t hide with my clothes, for fear of being caught.
He kept punching and kicking me relentlessly. It had only been a few minutes and yet it felt like hours to me. I felt like I would black out any moment. i had lost a lot of blood and the pain was intense. Just the pain from this kept me awake. It was agony. He yelled at me until his voice was hoarse.
He threw me as far as he could again, onto the opposite wall. During the beating he had gone around my small room, destroying every little thing that I loved, which wasn’t much, my one doll, my crayons, but worst of all, the only picture I had of my deceased mother, the only who had been kind to me.
My head hit the wall so hard the blood splattered over the wall .by that time; he finally let me fall back to the floor. With ought another word he walked out of the room. He left me bleeding and beaten on the floor, knowing I would still be alive once dawn came again. This is what he always did. Keep me alive and it pained me to live in such a way my entire life. Anything would be better then this, even death.
my eye lids felt heavy. I blinked, trying to stay awake, but to no avail. my eyes closed and i took hard intakes a breath, saving my strength for the next time my father came for me. This was my hell I could never escape.