Chapter 9

• Isabella's Point Of View
• "Please don't hit me!" I begged him, my foster father and abuser who held tight to a leather belt while my seven year old self, was knelt down before him. Mischa Simmons was the bastard's name, he was a lazy no good drunk that beat me all the time. He was abusive and worked as a truck driver, and every night whenever he came home from work he never missed the opportunity to hit me.
• "Shut up you cursed witch!" He slurred on his words. "How many times have I told you, never to talk back to me, huh!" He scolded, delivering another hit with his belt on my back. I cried out but there was no one there to help me. I was forced to relieve these worst moments of my life where he tried to force himself on me. That was the last time I took any of his abuse. He always thought I was the devil so I became him.