Find me

Chapter 7

Aria POV

I was sitting on the floor in my bedroom, trying to focus on my homework.

My mind kept going back to that guy who looked like me.

Gabriel.

Who was he? Maybe he was my cousin? Did my parents have siblings that I didn’t know about? Why wouldn’t they tell me about them?

I shook my head and looked back down at my biology homework. I needed to focus on something else. That guy didn’t matter. Even if we were related somehow, it wouldn’t matter. He would never want to be associated with someone like me. He would never want to talk to me or be around me. I was nothing compared to him. He would pity me if he knew about my life. Maybe he would mock me? Maybe he would bully me? Maybe he would tell everyone and they would make fun of me at school?

Well, none of it mattered. He would never find out. He would never even look at me at school again.

I didn’t know why his friend defended me. I didn’t know why they stepped up and told that girl to leave me alone. They probably had their reasons, but I just couldn’t think of one. I only knew that it didn’t have much to do with me. They did it because of themselves. I didn’t deserve to be defended. I was no one. I didn’t matter.

And I would soon be gone.

I knew that it was only a matter of time before my dad got fired. It was only a matter of time before we moved again.

Why would I even try to find out who he is if I won’t be here for long?

I was sure that he didn’t even notice how similar we were. He didn’t even pay attention to it. Even if he did, I was sure he wasn’t spending his time thinking about it. He had a full life. He had friends. I was sure that he had a lovely family. Why would he spend his time thinking about some poor, frightened girl? It just wasn’t possible.

I shook my head and focused back on my homework. I needed to finish it and study for a test tomorrow.

I was always a good student. I wanted to learn. I needed to learn. Knowledge was my way out of my parents’ house. Knowledge was my ticket to a better life, a life where I wouldn’t be abused or starved, a life where I would take care of myself and maybe even have someone who would love me and take care of me.

I was just about to start writing down an answer in my notebook when I heard shouting.

“You fucking bitch!” my dad screamed.

“Fuck you, Mark!” my mom shouted back.

I heard glass breaking and something heavy fall to the floor.

He was hitting her again.

I jumped up and ran toward my bedroom door.

When I came into the kitchen, I saw broken glass all over the floor. My mom was lying on the floor, crumpled up, protecting her head. My dad was kicking her repeatedly with his foot.

My heart broke, and I ran toward them. I needed to help my mom.

“Dad, no!” I said, keeping my eyes on my mom. “Stop, please! You are hurting her!”

I knew better than to look up at him. I shouldn’t even have spoken, but I couldn’t let him hurt her. He was drunk and high, and he could kill her. I couldn’t let him kill her. I would lose them both.

My dad stopped kicking my mom, and before I could do anything, he grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back to look at me.

“I was just about to go and get you, you little slut.” my dad said, getting into my face. “I’m glad you came to me all on your own.”

My mom got up from the floor, glaring at my dad.

“You are a fucking moron, Mark!” my mom shouted.

“Shut the fuck up, Rose.” my dad yelled, turning his head to look at my mom. “I know you drank it. Don’t even try to defend yourself.”

My dad pulled my hair even harder, and I had to bite down on the whimper that tried to escape me.

“You can’t keep hiding the good stuff, Mark!” my mom shouted. “I wanted something different for a change!”

This wasn’t the first time my parents fought about alcohol. They would hide their stuff around the house, and then they would fight when they couldn’t find it or when they found an empty bottle.

This was the first time my dad ever hit my mom that hard. He sometimes slapped her or pulled her hair, but I’ve never seen him hit her like he did today. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. She was my mom. I needed to help her.

My dad threw me onto the floor and stepped back toward my mom.

Broken glass pierced my skin, and a small whimper escaped me.

“I told you to stop drinking my shit!” my dad screamed, hitting my mom with the back of his hand.

She fell down, holding the side of her face.

“Dad, no.” I mumbled quietly, trying to get up to help her.

He turned toward me. He was furious. He knelt down next to me and grabbed a piece of broken glass. He grabbed my neck and squeezed.

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch!” he screamed as he sliced my upper thigh.

I cried out in pain, but it came out muffled. I couldn’t do much more. He was squeezing my neck tightly.

“I should have fucking killed you the moment she brought you home from the hospital.” my dad said, putting pressure on the cut he made. “You are nothing but a waste of space, time, and money.”

His breath was fanning my face, and a small part of me was glad that I couldn’t breathe. I knew that my stomach would turn if I could smell the alcohol in his breath.

“Maybe I should start using you for something.” my dad said, squeezing my neck even tighter. “Maybe you could be my new fucktoy. Your mother isn’t doing it for me anymore.”

My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and my lungs burned from lack of air.

His words made my heart race impossibly fast. He wouldn’t do that. I was his daughter. He wouldn’t…

Please no. Please no. I won’t survive that. I won’t.

His grip on my neck disappeared, and I fell back down on the floor. I gasped for air, coughing and desperately trying to get the air back into my lungs. I couldn’t see what was going on around me. Black dots clouded my vision.

“You are not replacing me with this little slut!” my mom screamed.

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her hitting my dad.

“I will fucking kill her!” my mom screamed again. “You are not replacing me, Mark!”

My vision cleared, and I could see my dad holding my mom’s hands in a tight grip.

“You stupid bitch!” my dad screamed, hitting my mom with the back of his hand again.

She fell on the floor, and I could tell that he knocked her unconscious.

My dad looked at me, and I froze. I looked away from him immediately.

What would he do to me? Would he really…

No.

Please, please, please no.

I will be good. I will be better.

Please, not that. Please.

“Take care of your mother.” my dad said, slurring his words. “Don’t make a sound.”

He walked to the cupboard, opened it, and grabbed another bottle. He walked away from the kitchen.

As soon as he left, I lifted myself up to my knees and crawled to my mom.

“Mom?” I called her quietly.

She didn’t respond.

She had some cuts on her arms from all the broken glass around us. I needed to clean her cuts, or else she could get an infection.

I stood up and winced in pain. I quietly walked back to my room. I had everything I needed to take care of my mom there.

I ignored the pain I was in. I would take care of myself later. I needed to help my mom first.