Good Girl's Secret

Prologue

May contain violent parts, if you don't enjoy this then please try to skip or delete this from your library, thanks for reading.

I was thrown to the ground, I clenched my teeth and bit my tongue from crying out. Black spots seem to dance around my eyes. My breaths are suffocated, the only sign of me alive is my slow pulse that I feel pounding against me.
"Get up, you filthy creature," my mom yells at me, grabbing a fistful of my hair, yanking me up in the process.
My whole body shudders at the impact, my consciousness seems to be going slowly.

She pushes me to the wall with a hard thud as I hear a small crack in my back. She kicks my stomach, making me choke out blood.

This is what I go through every day.

"You are just an ungrateful brat," she says elbowing me in the face, feeling a trickle of blood drop down.

"Its not my fault," I cry out which results another series of kicks.

"It is, and you will pay. Your father died because of you, you killed him. You should have died, not him! You wanted to go play in the dark shadows, you ran away laughing, but you ended up getting caught by some pedophile. While your dad went to save you there was a gun shot. You're lucky the police came, but if you weren't so stupid, he would be alive."

I look up at my mom's raging eyes, I felt tears, hot, salty, tears.

With a boost of confidence, I stood up.

"I was five, I didn't know anything, I didn't," I replied angrily.

"So this is how you talk to your mother," She says.

"You will never be my mother," I say, grinding my teeth.

She slams my head against the wall repeatedly as I slowly slip out of consciousness, but before I do.

She says one last thing.

"You will never be my daughter."

As if I'd ever want to be.

After I wake up, still noticing I'm on the ground. I stand up ignoring my heavy limbs. Noticing I should get ready for school after an hour, I didn't bother with sleep and instead chose to make myself look presentable.

I head up to my broken room, it's my only form of privacy. She never comes in here, but she can drag me out of there just by calling my name.

I walk around my room, holding back a sigh, this all started when I was ten. It started with a slap, at first I thought it was just a small anger inside of her, an accident. She didn't hurt me like that when dad has died, but it became much more in my years of the age eleven, twelve, thirteen, and fourteen. Which has came to the age of seventeen.

I look under my bed, grabbing my first aid kit and start to heal my self.

I don't flinch at the pain, it was always like that.

-Edited January 5 2016