Chapter 1 Living A Nightmare

• Aurora’s P.O.V
• I stared at my reflection in horror; at the fresh bruise on my left cheek, watching the skin swell and turn a deep purple as it throbbed from within.
• I brought my hand up to touch a finger to my cheek, assessing the damage, but a sharp burst of pain made me yelp. With trembling lips and sweat glistening on my brows, I gripped the counter so tightly my knuckles turned white; it was all so I didn’t let out the scream trapped in my throat.
• Tears welled in my eyes but I knew I couldn’t scream; I couldn’t even cry.
• I can’t—shouldn’t—let him know…I thought desperately to myself. I shouldn’t scare him!
• Breathing through my mouth in short bursts, I tried to will the pain away, hoping that it would get better, but it didn’t. But I had to be strong, not for myself, but for him.
• I was the only one he had and if he saw me like this…no! I had to force myself to smile past my pain, so that he wouldn’t be scarred for life. After all, he was only 5, still untouched by the atrocities going on inside this house.
• Steeling my spine, I balled up a few pieces of paper towels and placed the lump inside my mouth. I gagged, but quickly took an ice pack and placed it against my cheek.
• This time, my scream was muffled by the paper towels, nothing but the flaring pain overwhelming my senses.
• Trembling and panting, I leaned against the bathroom door, my eyes shut tightly as I worked through the agony.
• ‘You little whore!’ My father’s voice sounded in my ears, loud and heavily slurred, an empty bottle of whisky in his hands. ‘Where is the money? I know you work at that stupid restaurant! Give me the money!’
• ‘I don’t have any money,’ I had whimpered, trying to put on a brave front, but we both knew it was all a façade.
• ‘Liar!’ he had bellowed, and when he had raised his hand with the empty bottle in it to strike my across the face. I hadn't been able to block the attack in time as the impact had sent me crashing to the floor. ‘Don’t you lie to your father, you bitch!’
• ‘I’m not lying, I promise!’ At that point, I hadn't been able to stop him as he hauled me up from the floor with a grip on my hair. ‘Please! You’re hurting me!’
• My words had fallen on deaf ears. ‘Turn around.’
• ‘I don’t have it!’ I had insisted despite the way my body had trembled violently from the impact, my lips trembling uncontrollably until I had bit down on them. But that hadn’t stopped him from roughly searching my pockets; from ransacking my room, without caring about my privacy.
• He had found the money, inside the mattress cover, a total of thirty five dollars that I had gotten as a tip from the restaurant after hours of standing on my feet for hours.
• ‘You fucking liar!’ This time, I hadn’t seen the bottle coming down on me.
• But I had felt the impact of the glass on the same cheek; heard it shatter on contact. My head spun; went numb from the pain as black spots danced before my eyes.
• He had thrown the half-broken bottle on the floor next to me, making me flinch, and, as if he hadn’t just abused his only daughter, he had strode out of the house, taking my week’s worth of savings with him.
• I didn’t know which hurt me more—the fact that my pain meant nothing to him, or that I now had nothing left to buy food for the rest of the week.
• When the harsh footsteps had finally faded, I had rushed to the front door, tripping over my own feet as I locked it tight, making sure that no one could get in.
• Our house was located at the edge of the woods, and the neighborhood itself wasn’t safe any longer, and my father’s misconducts were well known to the public. It was a cocktail for disaster and I didn’t want any unexpected guests or debt collectors trying to break down the door to get their hands on Riley and me.
• …but these days, it felt like the true danger was in my own home.
• I miss mom… I would give anything to have her back! I wish she had taken me with her when she died…
• But as the ice pack numbed the pain slowly but steadily, I tried to drive that thought away from my mind. If I was gone too, Riley would have no one to live for. How would he survive?
• I sighed, turning to the mirror once again. I looked pale as a ghost but the dark bruise on my cheek needed to be covered us. I was already a freak at school whose father was a gambler and a drunk. I didn’t need to announce to the world that I was being abused as well.
• So I used the only foundation I had managed to buy at a dollar store to cover up the bruise. It didn’t help much, but it got the job done. My eyes looked too big for my face and my cheek looked hollow on one side, swollen on the other, so I pulled up my hood to try and conceal most of my face.
• After I was done cleaning myself up, I returning to the living room; to the mess my father had left, and cleaned up the glass shards and the empty bottles, making sure that there was no evidence left of what had happened last night.