Chapter 1- Home Life

Trigger Warning:

Abuse

  Some people tell me life is all about the consequences. Do the right thing. Usually, though, the right thing is just a matter of opinion. Some people don't know the difference. And honestly, it can be confusing.

  A hero's problem is that they fear being weak. If they show even the smallest sign of weakness, their enemies can use it against them. So they hide their problems. Whatever they're facing? It doesn't matter.

  Where did I learn this? From Marvel and DC movies. I don't know what it is really called, but I like to call it the hero complex. And I get it. I'm the same way. I don't tell anyone about my home life. If I did, I would get  pity. And god, I hate pity.

  I get it. My life isn't normal. I would be lying if I were to say that I've had the perfect life and the perfect parents. But, no matter what I want, it never happens. Because me, Abigail Windram, I am an unlucky lady.

  God, I'd give anything to be in the Marvel world right now. Coronavirus means I have to stay home with my father, all the time. He doesn't want to get Covid, so he makes me do E-School. And to be honest, it gives me more time to take a beating.

  I don't have zoom classes often, but when I do, its my escape. And it makes me feel as if its my only form of safety. I have several words to describe my father, so I'll just give the imaginary people in my head, you, my family history.

  My mom died giving birth to me. I know, classic. My father has hated me for it, but he keeps me for sympathy. Because his boss, actually has a heart. And part of me is glad my father gets to keep his job. He can do it online, so for him, its a plus. If my father were to lose his job, I'm sure he'd end up drinking even more than usual.

  My dad has a problem. And extreme alcohol problem. But, me being genius for my age, I can fix myself up. I know how to do a proper stitch, and I know the human anatomy enough for me to know how bad, on a scale of 1 to 10, my injuries are.

  I don't say anything about my home problems. And to be honest, I should. But, with how my father acts in the general public, I'm sure he'd win, and I'd just be beat worse. Honestly, if I were to write a list of the bones I've had that were broken, and weren't treated properly, it'd be as long as McDonald's order history. 

  I like to imagine I'm Tony Stark's daughter. Because I can kind of see the similarities. Sadly though, he's from another planet. See, I have a problem with imagining scenarios. I imagine somehow being lifted out of here to wake up right in the Marvel world, and that it turns out I was in a Coma just watching their lives.

  But, my wanting to go to the Marvel world ended with Tony Stark dying. I mean, if I were to find a way to bring him back, then I'd go. Maybe time travel is still an option. Where would I find the Pym particles, though? I would honestly die for Tony Stark. I know he's a fictional character and all, but still.

  I guess the reason I go to the Marvel world to escape is that me and my dad watched the movies together. It was the only time of known freedom for me. He wouldn't do anything, just watch. So there, I was actually safe. Unlike school where he could pull me out at any moment.

  That hero complex that I talked about earlier? I think that Tony Stark passed that onto me. Like, dude, you messed me up. Like, for good. 

  My father doesn't care about what I do, as long as it doesn't embarrass the family or prepare his meals 3 times a day. Yeah, my father? He's the evil stepmother and I'm Cinderella. 

  Aw, shit! My dads gonna be pissed!!!!! I forgot to make-

"ABIGAIL! WHERE IS DINNER?" My father bellowed.

I start running to the bathroom door, but its too late.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I trip.

I take a gulp, "To wash my hands to make dinner?"

He looks at me with a 'do you think i'm stupid' look on his face, "God! I ask you to do one thing, but no, YOU HAVE TO FUCKING FAIL."

"I- I'm sorry, dad! I'll get right to it!" I start to try and get up.

"Your mom would never do this! But I guess the difference between you and her is that you're just a tiny little bitch." He slaps me, "When will you ever listen?"

"I always do! This is the first ti-"

He kicks me in the stomach, "DON'T YOU FUCKING BACK TALK ME!"

My stomach doesn't hurt too bad, but who am I to judge? I'm used to this by now. I could've broken something and I may not know.

"You know what?" He starts toward the kitchen, "I'm done giving you second chances."

  It's my chance. I pick my pick myself up from the floor and run into the bathroom. Then I lock the door, ready for anything.

He starts banging on the door, "UNLOCK THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

  I resist the urge to yell "or what?" and try to stay calm. I had what I needed. Except for a phone. Damn it. I am officially an idiot. Something goes through the door, and from what I can guess by the inch of blade that went through? It's a knife.

  My father rarely used knives, which is why I barely have any scars. But every time he used a knife, he was so drunk he had no control. He wanted to kill me. And he's gotten close to succeeding, before. I was lucky because he quickly snapped out of it and called 911 with some excuse. I may not be so lucky this time.

  I look back to the door to see a pretty decent sized hole in it. Enough, apparently, for him to reach his hand in and unlock the door. I'm basically doomed at this point. 

My father walks in and hovers over me, "You're dead now, bitch."

  He then stabs the knife into my calf, which hurts like hell. He pulls the knife out of my leg and I don't need to look at the wound to know it's bleeding a lot. He then, punches me in the head, which causes everything to go fuzzy. But I was awake for when my legs fell to the ground and I felt the knife plunge into my stomach. It was black after that.