Your Savior

Chapter 1 Helena I always wake up thinking about why I was born. Why did I not die at birth? If I deserve to live the life I have, then I shouldn't have been born. It'll save me from the torture I suffer every day. In this house, there is a mother who's angry at me and an abusive father. I snapped out of my thoughts because of my father's voice calling for me again. "Come here, woman!" My stomach churned. That agony that always comes when I'm around him, knowing what he's going to do to me doesn't change my life. I carefully stood up from the bed and set aside the book I was reading or trying to read. Mom is not yet home from work. I hope she comes. I shouldn't have left the library this early; I should have stayed longer, so I could have saved myself from this situation. "Woman! Can't you hear that I'm calling you?! F*cking b***h!" My stepfather yelled again. Now he's angry. My eyes burned because of the tears that wouldn't fall. If he would only slap me like he always did before when I was a child carrying my report card with bad grades. If he would only curse at me and tell me how useless I am... but no. Until recently, all I wanted was for him to stop. I hate that belt and the marks it leaves on my legs and behind, making it hard for me to sit. Then one day he stopped, and I asked him to punch me again. Belt sting is better than that. Anything is better than this. Even death. I opened the door of my room and took a deep breath, reminding myself that I could live with whatever he did to me. I've been saving up money from my part-time job, and I will leave soon. My mother would be happy if I left. She hates me. She's been hating me for years. I was only a burden to her. I don't know why, but she's so angry at me. I pulled my shirt down and tucked it into my shorts. After that, I pulled my shorts down to cover my legs as much as possible. The truth is, it's useless. My legs are too long to cover. No shorts are long enough to cover them. It wouldn't take long for Mom to reach the house. He won't do anything if he doesn't want to get caught. But then I thought, if that happened, he would accuse me and say it was my fault. He blamed me for the changes in my body four years ago. My breasts have grown so much, and he told me to stop eating because my ass is fat. I tried to stop eating, but it didn't help. My stomach was flat, and it made my chest bigger. He hated it. So I started eating again, but my chubby tummy didn't show again. One night, when I walked into the living room wearing a pair of sweatpants and a shirt to drink a glass of milk before I went to sleep, he slapped me and said I looked like a w***e. He called me a stupid b***h with no future more than once. I entered the room and answered my stepfather's call. He was sitting in his armchair with his eyes glued to the TV and holding a bottle of beer. He arrived early from work, and it annoyed me. His gaze landed on me and slowly lowered over my body, making me shiver with disgust. What I wouldn't give to be smart and have no breasts. If my legs were short and fat, my life would be perfect. It's not my face that made Roger drawn to me. I hate that it was my body. I hate him with all my might. Nausea shook me, and my heart raced as I fought back the tears. He likes it when I cry. It turns him on so I won't cry. Not in front of him at least. "Sit on my lap, whore." I couldn't do it. I managed to avoid him for weeks by not staying in the house as much as possible. The fear of his hands inside my shirt or shorts is too much. I'd want it if he killed me instead. Anything but his hands on me. When I didn't move, an evil look replaced his face. "Get your ass here, you stupid b***h, and sit on my lap!" I closed my eyes because the tears were threatening to fall. I needed to stop them. If he will only hurt me, then I can take it. What I couldn't stomach was him touching me. I was disgusted by the sounds he made and the things he said. It is an endless nightmare. Every second I stalled was less than a second until my mother arrived. When she was home, he cursed me, but he wouldn't touch me. My mother might prefer not having me around, but she was my only salvation from that agony. "Come, you can cry. You know I like it." His chair moved, and I heard the sound of his footsteps. I opened my eyes and saw that he stood up. A bad sign. If I ran, I wouldn't be able to beat him. The only choice I have is the back door, but his pitbull is outside. That dog bit me three years ago, and I needed stitches, but he didn't allow me to go to the doctor. He told me to just bandage the wound. I had a horrible scar on my hip made by the dog's sharp teeth. And I haven't gone into the backyard again. But when I saw the man near me, I thought whether being the dog's food would be better than that. The only way leads to death, but it doesn't sound so bad. A few seconds before he could reach me, I decided that whatever the dog did to me was better than this, so I ran. He laughed behind me, but I didn't allow that sound to slow me down. He probably didn't believe that I could run out the back door. Well, he's dead wrong. I will face the deadly dog to escape him. But the door was locked, and I needed a key to open it. No! His hands held my waist and pulled me back to his hand, his body touching mine. The sour taste of bile burned my throat as I tried to get away from him. "No! Let me go, you dirty pig!" His hands grabbed my chest and squeezed them, causing me pain. "You're stupid. This is the only thing that is good about you. You didn't finish high school because of your stupidity, but this body is made to make men happy. Just accept it, you whore." Tears blurred my eyes. He really knows what to say to hurt me. "No!" I screamed again, but now there was a pain in my voice. "Fight me, Helena. I like it when you put up a fight." How does my mother remain married to this demon? Is my real dad worse than him? She didn't marry him. She didn't tell me anything about him, and I don't even know his name. But surely, there is nothing more vile than this man. I couldn't take it. I am tired of feeling scared. Either beat me to death or throw me out. For so many years, I was afraid of the same choices. My mother once told me that men will only think about s*x when they see me. That they will use me my whole life. She repeatedly told me to leave. That day, I was ready. I only saved a thousand dollars, but I can take the bus to the other side of the country to find a job. If I live in this house alive, that's what I'll do. Roger's hand slid into my shorts, and I pushed him away, screaming. I don't like his hand there. "Let me go!" I screamed, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He removed his hand and pulled my arm, making me wince in pain. After that, he pushed me hard to the door, throwing a punch in my face, causing my nose to break and bleed. My vision blurred, and my knees weakened. "Shut up, b***h, and just accept it!" His hand harshly pulled my shirt up and pulled my bra down. I sobbed, and I couldn't stop the disgust running over my body. It will happen, and I can't stop it. "Leave my husband, you w***e, and leave my house! I don't want to see your face again!" Roger stopped at the sound of my mother's voice, and he removed his hands from my chest. I quickly pulled my shirt down. My face was burning from the punch, and I tasted blood on my lips because of the cut under my tongue. "Get out of here, you useless b***h!" My mother screamed again. That moment changed everything. My life will have a new chapter, and I will write it in a completely different way than anything I have experienced here. I ran to my room and shoved my things and the money I saved up in my bag. I washed my face in the sink, took my backpack, and left my room. I passed by the living room, and I didn't see them. I was thankful because I didn't want to see them anyway. I left the house without looking back and thinking of anything. Nothing I have to face from now on can be worse than everything I have been through. I hope that my fate holds something better for me than my life up to now.