My life was hell, in school out of school. I never did get any peace. I don't know what I did in my previous life to deserve the treatment I receive daily from my classmates or from my father. I understood that everyone had problem's and that there are people in the world with problems bigger, and worse than my own. And, maybe I'm being pretty self-petty, but- I'm always picked on, bullied, and just downright abused at school. And, then I go home for the same treatment, except, I prefer school to home. I'd rather have the students who hate me for no reason, pick on me and bully me than to go home to my drunk father who never seems to stop with his abuse. At first, it wasn't all that bad. A few words here and there, but then it soon escalated to a slap here and there.

I tried to remind myself that my father didn't mean to do the things he did to me, that he was hurting because of my mother leaving us. But, when he began to hit me and punch me for no reason what so ever. I knew that it was deeper than that. He wasn't just hurting over my mother leaving anymore, he had somehow got it in his head that 'I' was responsible. He'd said so many, many times while he hit me. I don't know how I was responsible, and at the beginning, I tried to tell him that. It didn't work, it just made the beatings worse.

Sitting in classes all day was a pain, literally. The places my father hit me were smart. Never in an area I couldn't cover in some way. My back was his main target. Sitting in the chairs hurt, and I literally had to sit on the edge of my seat so that my back wouldn't come into contact with the wood panel that crossed my chair. Paying attention to the teacher was also hard, my body constantly hummed, and throbbed in pain and much of my concentration went to not making a noise.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of class I stood cautiously. Grabbing my books to my chest, and walking with my head down. I never wanted to make friends, and while in the beginning many had tried, I just pushed them away. Soon, they just gave up and decided that I was some sort of freak. I avoided as many people as I could in the hallways, but as always someone had to step out. The next thing I knew, my books were hit from my hands and kicked across the hallway.

Sighing, I bent to start picking them. Big mistake. I was pushed from behind and nearly landed face first on the tiled floor, gasping in slight pain I sat back up and proceeded to pick up my stuff, ignoring the laughs and chatter around me. Trying not to care that not one person tried to help. It was the way it was because this is what I had wanted. I didn't want friends... I had to remind myself that every day. Friends led to talking and talking led to sleepovers and such. I couldn't allow that to happen. I couldn't allow anyone to come to my house and possibly feel what I feel every day for the past two and a half years.

Finally getting my books together, I made it to my locker. I only grabbed the books I needed and put them into my bag. Thankfully the teachers had a habit of standing out by the doors so I knew that once I got outside I'd be safe from any more pushes. Power walking to the front door, I nearly sighed in relief as I seen Mr. Hodgins and Mrs. Samuel standing there. They both smiled at me, but I bowed my head and ran home.

I frowned, staring at my front door. I didn't want to go inside. I jumped when my front door suddenly opened, and my father glared at me. "What are you doing? Get your ass inside and make my dinner!" He seethed.

I immediately did as he asked, the less I talked back, and the more I listened the less I got hit. I knew that I wouldn't make it to the safety of my room without at least a couple new bruises, but it was better than getting a full 'punishment.' Dinner thankfully didn't take long, and while I served it to him, he ranted about how the kids now are disrespectful little brats and deserve the beatings they received. I agreed quietly, hoping that if I agreed he'd leave me alone for the night. Nope.

"Are you fucking listening to me?" My father snapped, and I jerked my terrified gaze to his.

"I-I didn't hear you... I'm s-sorry..." I stuttered, backing away slowly. My father advanced on me quickly, his hand whipping through the air, and connecting hard with my cheek. I gasped, my hand instantly flying to my now burning cheek. I blinked the tears away.

"Don't you dare disrespect me, you little bitch! I'm your father!" He roared in anger.

Flinching at his loudness, I squeaked in fear. "I-I'm sorry... I d-didn't mean to-too." Another smack, this one sending me to the floor. The tears I'd tried hard to fight now falling freely as he gripped and pulled my hair, making me go to my knee's to try and keep up with his pull.

"You will learn respect if I have to beat it into your stupid ass." He hissed through clenched teeth, but rather than hit me again he shoved my head forward and walked away. "Get to bed, you have school in the morning."

I listened as his boots clicked against the wood flooring, disappearing from the kitchen to what I hoped was his room. I wrapped my arms around myself and sobbed silently. How I wish I could get out of this place, to be free of all the pain.