* * *
The loud banging on the door had her hiding under the covers.
“Unlock this goddamn door right now!”
Even though Maxwell had learned how to become a functioning alcoholic over the past few weeks, she could hear the drinks he had consumed tonight in his bellowing voice.
“You embarrassed the hell out of me and your mother tonight!”
Fear started to creep in as it went quiet. She had greatly underestimated her father’s wrath, and she just prayed she was going to survive.
Boom.
A body slammed into the door.
Chloe had been wrong.
Tears streamed down her face, caught upon her pillow that was now getting soaked.
“If you don’t open this fucking door right now, so help me God, I’ll make it worse for you.”
The whisper of hands cuffed her wrists. “Stay still, little girl, or it’ll just hurt worse.”
Her father was becoming the devil’s disciple. The fear she felt inside of her rivaled the fear she had felt while standing in the presence of the devil.
Bam.
The door flung open, and pure rage filled the room
Chloe held on tightly to the covers as she furiously held her eyes shut, hoping this was all just another nightmare.
Maxwell stalked to her bed. “Let this be your first lesson.”
A second later, Chloe felt him roughly pick her up with her blanket before he threw her across the room a second later. Being touched through the covers didn’t burn her skin like it would have if he had touched her flesh, but it still hurt.
The blanket had broken most of her fall, but she did take a good bang to the head against the wall.
Sitting up, she watched her father through tears as he walked over to her. The sight of him made her blood run cold.
“You’re going to learn that crying won’t help you. I’m done listening to it.”
One final tear rolled down her cheek. Chloe didn’t know it, but it would be the last tear she would shed.
Maxwell moved while she closed her eyes.
So help me God.
Fourteen
Watching Your Best Friend Turn into A Monster
Walking up to the school after Christmas break gave Chloe mixed feelings. Her father had mentally tortured her every night, and the night of his swearing in, he had stepped it up a notch. She hadn’t cried a tear since realizing her father was right: Crying didn’t erase her past. Crying didn’t make touch easier for her to take. Crying didn’t make the nightmares stop. Crying had never once saved her or made one thing easier for her.
It was as if she had used all of her tears up. Her eyes had run dry, and there was nothing left to cry for.
Yes, she was able to get away from the insane asylum, but this wasn’t any better.
“Still a freak, I see.” Cassandra giggled to her little group as they passed for obvious reasons.
But there was one silver lining. The best part about her life was here, and that was Elle. She had missed her a lot and hadn’t had a chance to visit Elle over the break due to moving and her father’s new position. She hoped, now that school had started back again, the excuse of projects and homework would help her.
Surprisingly, she found Elle waiting at the front of the school on one of the benches.
“Why is your face bruised?”
How could she tell that fast? Chloe had thought she had expertly put on some concealer and foundation to hide it.
“I didn’t think it was that obvious,” she whispered to her.
“It’s not, but I can tell because I’ve had to do the same thing,” Elle admitted. “Now, what happened?”
“I-I uh … tripped again.”
Elle went silent understanding what Chloe had meant before she quickly got up and started heading into the school. The last time they had walked the halls, it had turned bloody, so Chloe now started walking directly behind Elle, using her as a shield. It was easier for her this way, looking down at Elle’s feet, following right behind. At least no one will see the school freak coming right at them.
They didn’t talk about her bruises once as the day went on, and even though Chloe should have lied to Elle, there wasn’t much of a point. She always knew when she was lying.
With her going to Art next and Elle going to Health, she expected them to go their separate ways, but Elle continued to lead the way to Art class. What is she doing?
“Wait here when class is over. I’ll get over here as quickly as I can,” Elle told her as she reached the Art room.
“It’s too far; you shouldn’t.”
“I’ll be fine, just wait.”
“No, I can—”
“What are you going to do when Sebastian takes a book to your face or drags you outside so everyone can beat up on you? Are you going to be able to take it?”