• Chapter One
    You like to think your never wrong... My music blared through my headphones as I stared out the window of our speeding Mercedes.

    I looked over at him now, my father, the man who took part in giving me life. The same man who constantly reminded me that he was capable of taking it away just as easily. I wanted to love him, but all I could feel was hatred. Sometimes I even drempt of killing him, killing him so that he could never hurt me or my mother again. However I knew I wasn't that strong, mentally, physically, anything.

    I saw that his lips were moving which meant he was telling me something, maybe he wouldn't notice that I wasn't listening. The song ended, I decided to listen to him, a voice in pounded through my head.

    "STOP IT!" I shouted silently. I put my fingers on my pounding temples, "I am going to jump out the car door I swear I am!"

    "Lier," the shrill voice shrieked."

    "I'm not lying!"

    "Ben," my father stated. "BEN!"

    I tried to reply, but nothing came out. "BEN," he yelled raising his hand.

    I flinched and woke up gasping for breath. It had all been a dream? I rubbed my eyes and sat up, and looked around the room just so I could reassure myself that this wasn't the afterlife. I laughed to myself and ran my fingers through my long hair. "Ben my friend," I sighed out loud. "You are losing it."

    There came a knock on my door, followed by my father's voice, "Ben, are you up yet?"

    "Yeah."

    "Then get your butt in gear boy. You have a lot of stuff to do."

    I quickly got dressed not wanting to upset my father. Before I put on my shirt I stared at my right hand side, it wasn't anything but a large bruise, I touched it and winced a bit. Juts a scratch right? A bruise would make him a monster.

    I quickly slid my shirt on and stared into my mirror, my messy black hair was more messy than usual and hid most of my blue eyes. I tried to tame it with a brush but gave up. If it didn't work any other day then why would it work today?

    I climbed down the stairs to the kitchen where my mother was making breakfast. I kissed her on the cheek and got some orange juice from the refrigerator. I chugged half the carton before my mom finally said good morning, afterwords she smiled and looked back down at the eggs she was cooking. "Did you sleep well?"

    "Kinda, sorta, not really," I replied shrugging off the last bit of the dream by finishing off the last of the juice.

    She nodded and looked over her shoulder at the entrance to the kitchen, my father was in the shower and would want breakfast as soon as he was finished. I threw the empty carton in the trash can under the sink and went to help her. She shooed me away and told me I could help by setting the table. I walked through the door to our connected dining room and neatly set the table. Three white plates, three clear crystal cups, a coffee mug, and golden silverware.

    The shower went off upstairs and I knew it would be a matter of minutes before he got down here. I went back to help my mother and this time she didn't protest. We had just finished when my father came to the door, "Good morning honey," he stretched looking around to be sure everything was in order.

    "Morning," she replied putting on the same bright face that made my heart break and my father smile.

    I walked over to the table and sat down. The air in the room changed and my father glared at me. Oh no, mistake number one.

    "You think you can sit down before me? Who the hell do you think you are?"

    I lowered my head. "No sir." I stood up and took three steps back from the table. I glanced up just in time to see his fist coming toward my stomache. I fell back against the wall the wind knocked out of me. My mother made a move to come to help me, and I mouthed no. Her eyes filled with tears and she stared to bite at her thumb nail.

    My father sat down and looked at my mother, she quickly went around his left side to pour his coffee. Her hands were shaking so badly it was a miracle she as able to pour all the coffee into the cup and not onto the table.

    "You seem tense honey, is something wrong?" he asked between bites.

    "What could possibly be wrong dear?" my mother responded a little to quickly.

    He frowned, "I don't like that tone you just took with me."

    "I didn't mean it dear."

    I had to stop this before something else began. I stood up and pulled out my mother's chair. She looked at my father who nodded and slowly eased herself down. I took my seat next and waited until my father started to eat again to take my first bite.

    "Do you need a ride to school today Ben?" my mother's voice sounded distant to me.

    "If you have time."

    "Of course she does. You got my laundry done early this week didn't you button?" He touched her cheek. I took everything in her power not to jump back, I could see that. I wondered if he could, if he did he must have enjoyed it because he didn't stop smiling.

    "We had better get going soon then," she advocated while cleaning up the table.

    "I have to get going myself. I love you/"

    "Love you too darling." He kissed her and patted me on the shoulder as he walked out to the garage.

    We waited until we saw his car drive away before looking at each other. "I am so sorry honey!" she started to fuss over my stomach.

    "Mom, I'm alright," I smiled and brushed strands of dark hair from her face. She whipped tears from the corners of her eyes and started for the garage as well. I was surprised her car still ran, considering she hardly ever got to drive it. The only places she could ever go was the store, occasionally to an aerobics class, and rarely to take me to school. It was nearly Christmas break and this was only the second time she had driven me.

    I was thankful to have at least the school days out of the house. I didn't know how my mother managed. She backed out of the drive way, a slight smile on her face, she hadn't been out of the house in over a week. She looked around, still paying attention to the road and let the window down so that she could feel the wind on her face. She let free in a wave of dark curls. It framed her pale skin and fell in the eyes that were still red and poofy from crying.

    "Look Ben," she pointed at a sign for an air show. "Wouldn't it be fun to go to one of those?" What she left out was again. Before my mother married my father, she was very adventuresome, and would travel all over just to find something with a thrill. My dad claimed that he had "tamed the rebel" but you could tell by the look her her eye she wasn't tamed, just repressed.

    I shook my head, "You know I'm afraid of heights mom. Remember all those times you "accidentally" dropped me on my head?"

    "Hey!" she protested. "That was one time, and I felt horrible!"

    I smirked, you know your life is sad when one of your happiest memories is being dropped on your head as a two year old. I remembered that my mom had to rush me to the hospital, and it was just me and her, away from the house, without daddy. I had to get thirteen stitches, and I know I cried something terrible, but that was nothing compared to the cries I heard from my parents bedroom that night.