Chapter 13
Scars
Scarlett
I sit waiting for Grant to barrel back through the doorway after walking Spencer out.
My heart sinks knowing what he just saw, and hoping like hell he didn't catch anything off.
Just an overprotective dad, keeping his daughter safe from boys.
Funny, Spencer said, he didn't want me to get my heart broken.
The truth is, my heart has been broken for five years, the first time my father hit me.
We knew he hit my mother, but we never thought he'd hit us until he did.
When he hit me, he took a piece of my soul; he continues to take and take with each kick and each punch as he slowly kills my mind and my body.
His words are like acid; they burn, and they scar.
Grant stomps in, his work boots hitting the hardwood with force.
“I should beat you senseless for that slutty behavior.” He takes a step closer.
“I should punish you for breaking the rules and being the entitled little brat you are. You think that boy cares? You think he looks at you and sees worth?” A deep chuckle falls from his smug smirk.
“Stupid girl. All he sees is a piece of ass who’s weak with a few holes to shove his dick in.
I know, because that’s all I saw whenever I looked at your mother.
” He takes another step forward, his thighs now pressed hard against the side of my bed.
Reaching over, I brace myself, his hand balls into a fist, and his finger points directly in my face, nearly touching my nose.
“I can't afford to have you miss any more school, it makes me look bad. Think yourself lucky, if you hadn't already been hiding out in your room like a pussy for days, I would have knocked some sense into you, until you finally got it in your head that you are nothing but worthless. Think yourself lucky that I’m not in the mood to teach you some damn respect.” I look at him directly in his cold eyes.
“Don't fucking look at me like that, you look just like her.
It wouldn't surprise me if you end up like her, too, crying into a bottle of pills.” With that, he removes his finger from my face and storms out, slamming my door in the process.
I let out my breath of fear and closed my eyes, releasing the never-ending sobs of hatred.
His words burn into my skin, scaring me.
I can't settle; it feels like something is crawling under my skin.
Anger, guilt, and hopelessness crash over me like a tsunami.
I run my hands up and down my arms, silently begging for it to stop.
I feel the need to get rid of the shame he's made me think, take back control, erase the scars he leaves with his venomous words.
Spotting the lighter I took from Spencer's car, it hits me, the feelings settle to a gentle tide of relief.
The lighter is my sanctuary, and the flame is my release. Fire is powerful like Grant, only I get to control the pain; I get to make my own scars.
Sliding off my black sweatpants, I sink to the floor, leaning against the cabinets, flicking the lighter and creating the flame of release, ready to burn the scars he made with my own.