Fated To A Vampire

Chapter 2: Home Sweet Home.

Looking around the small living room, there's trash and beer scattered across like decorations. The smell of hard liquor and pot heavy in the air. Sighing, I saw they had gone ahead and ate, the plates sitting on a stack of molding plates. Yea, Dave, they are so worried. I internally rolled my eyes. After my sister and brother moved away, my parents downgraded it to this s**t-hole. I don't even have my own room. This horrible couch is my bed, and they refuse to give me privacy as I am 'the problem child'. The door swings open and in walks my father, his expression cold and angry. My mother is right behind him, closing the door and walking to the kitchen, not even paying attention as she goes to the freezer and pulls out a vodka bottle. Rolling my eyes as I watched my thin, blonde-haired mother, I looked back at my father. He's slamming a beer that had been sitting on the table.

"Make me a drink, Shel baby. Then take it to the room, I will handle our daughter." My father's even tone, called out to her. My father, not breaking contact with my eyes.

"Yes, dear." My mother quietly replied. Quickly pouring two drinks and scurrying off to her den. Ever since my grandmother, her mother, had died she had given up completely on raising us. My siblings, being older than I am, were lucky and hadn't seen the aftermath of the drugs and liquor that filled the house only months after my brother had left. He knew it was getting bad, but neither of them even cared about me anyway. They certainly didn't care about our sperm donor and incubator, even before everything that happened, they were terrible parents.

"What were you thinking, girl?" His voice rose once the door to my mother's room shut. "Have I not beaten you enough for you to learn?" He got closer, walking around the table. Backing up, I scooted away from him. "Come here you little brat." He demanded. Reaching forward, he grabbed my arm roughly. His thick fingers digging in, his unkept brown hair hanging in his face. Pulling me in closer, he towered over my small 5'5" frame. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Raising his other hand, he struck my face hard with a closed fist. My cheek bone started immediately stinging. Pushing my free hand against his chest, I tried to will myself away. Turning away, I tried to pull my arm back, with no success. He grabbed a fist full of my hair, he yanked me to the ground. Tears stung my eyes, the hair being partially ripped from my scalp. Laying on my face, my already bleeding and bruised knees rubbed against the carpet.

"Please," I cried for him to stop, as his heavy figure stood above me, still holding a fistful of hair.

"Don't start begging now, I haven't even got started!" He roared in my face, the alcohol on his breath making me nauseous. Throwing my hands forward, I land a punch to his shoulder. Grabbing my shoulders roughly, he picks me up and throws me two feet away in the room, into the bookcase. Books fall onto me as I hit the floor, the air being ripped from my lungs. Wheezing, I curled into a fetal position, groaning loudly. Loud boots thudding across the floor towards me, rolling onto my stomach, I crawled across the kitchen door entrance. A boot lands hard on my left knuckles, wincing and I stop. His boot tread digs in harder and I cry out.

"Please stop," I sobbed, covering my face with my free hand as a shield.

"Okay." He mumbled, leaning down he rolled me onto my back and grabbed my throat. Lifting me into the air and pinning me, the air failed to fill my lungs as I was pinned against the door frame as my feet hung a foot from the ground. Grabbing his wrists, I tried to kick at him. "You will have this kitchen and living room done in the next thirty minutes, or I will treat you like the adult you so thrive to be" His threat spat into my face before releasing me and letting me fall to the floor, before stomping away. Leaning against the frame and curling my knees to my chest, I rested my forehead against my arms. After taking five minutes to collect myself, I stood. Tip-toeing, I could hear my parents now arguing. Sneaking into the bathroom, I shut the door and latched the lock. Walking over to the small double sink, I looked up. My heart-shaped face is bruised along the cheekbone, a lot of concealer and blush for tomorrow I suppose. Reaching up, I touched the small cut and bruise and I winced. With tears in my eyes, I reached for my arm to get peroxide from the cabinet. I wanted to scream with the pain that radiated from my ribs and back. Turning, I lifted my casual t-shirt, looking in the mirror, I could see the bruises starting to take form across my back. Groaning, I retrieve the peroxide and clean my face where the skin is slightly split. Sitting in the restroom, I cleaned the cuts on my knees. I could hear my mom in the other room getting loud. Why the hell was she yelling? She had never cared before. Quickly, I cleaned up my small mess. Brushing a brush through the knots in my frizzy brown hair. By the time I was done, my mother had stopped yelling. Creaking the door open, I peaked both ways, I'm going to leave again. This time, I will die fighting. Walking out, I don't hesitate to lace back up my high-tops. I grab my bag and throw the books and homework onto the couch. Quickly grabbing up a few tops, pants, and underwear, I put them into the bag. Zipping it, I slide it back under the table. Putting my books in a stack and trashing my homework in the kitchen trash as I open the fridge and grab two water bottles. Walking back towards the living room, I made my way to the door. My mind was going a million miles an hour. I didn't realize who was right in front of me until my face hit his bulky chest. Taking two steps back, he doesn't even wait to hear anything I have to say. He stumbled two steps forward, grabbing my arm again. Pulling my arm back, he stumbled towards me, losing his balance as he fell. His large body crushed my back into the floor. Not wasting any time, I try and fight. Rolling under him as I tried to get away again, grabbing onto the counter, I pulled myself up.

"Mommy! Please!" I screamed, hoping my mother would come to my rescue.

"Oh, baby, momma isn't going to come. She is taking a good nap right now," My father stood as his words slurred. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out an empty pill bottle that had the label stripped off. Shaking it, he pocketed it again in his jeans. His drunk smile closed in, pinning me at the corner of the counter. "Come here sugar, daddy wants love... I promise I won't hit you again." He got closer, and I felt like this was the end. His words were far from soothing, his hands came to my waist, trying to slip up my shirt.

"What the f**k?!" I smacked his hands hard, and I knew I had just f****d up.