Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Petals, Makeup, Tears, and Music ❯ Hurt ( Chapter 4 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Here is the next chapter!! I think i am getting the hang of this...maybe. THank you very much to all that reveiwed!! You all are so cool!! Here it is.
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As soon as she realized that she had screamed her eyes widened in shock. As the familiar, huge footsteps where heard coming up the stairs, the slender girl curled herself into a ball, knowing what was going to happen. Her door flung open, ripped from its hinges and her father began to smack her head from side to side with the force of his slaps.
He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of bed. Keeping a fist full of her long hair, he walked down the stairs, making sure her head was hitting each stair. Tears welled up at the pain shooting through both her heart and her body. He kicked her after freeing himself and half her hair from her head. Soon he was randomly punching and kicking her, as well as calling her names that were better off forgotten.
Afterwards, the battered Sakura got up and started to clean the two-story, four-bedroom house that she was supposed to call ‘home.’ It took her three hours to make everything shine brilliantly, and to erase every sign or smell of alcohol.
After the house was clean, she made dinner. All during this time, her father dished out the usual insults. He didn't like her hair. Her body was too slim. She daydreamed too much. Her spirit was not broken yet. She was stupid and selfish. All of that as well as anything and everything else his liquor-soaked mind could come up with.
Later while she cleaned up the dishes, Sakura began to cry softly. How she wanted his love!! It was something she had always been denied. Her mother had run off as soon as Sakura had started third grade. Sakura felt so alone.
She sang as she washed the dishes and cleared the table. The song was 'Concrete Angel,' a country song that she loved and felt a sort of bond to. As the words spilled from her lips, tears of torture followed gamely to drip off her chin and onto her washcloth.
A depressed, sad fourteen-year-old went to do her schoolwork. She opened her bedroom window to let in some fresh air, a thing she did as an odd habit each night, no matter the season, sat at her desk, and did her work. It took her three hours to finish. A whole night was gone, but still she wasn’t any closer to finding a song of her own to sing.

The redhead brushed her hair and got into her bed. Her eyes closed as she made the same wish she had made each night since she was a child.

I wish that someone, anyone, would love me.
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Please reveiw!! :)