XII

The door's not locked so I just walk in.

I decided on the ride here that I'd come in and go straight to my room, sans all parental interaction.

Just like always.

I walk upstairs and pass my parent's bedroom - the source of the shouting.

As I'm stalking toward my room I whip around.

"Where the hell have you been?!" my dad blares as he charges me.

My reaction time is slower than usual.

He reaches around me and grabs a fistful of the collar of my shirt and pulls it up so I'm on my tip toes to avoid being choked.

But I'm not tall enough and I can't breathe.

"I asked you a question!" he screams in my face.

He reeks of Jack Daniels and cigarettes.

My hands are going numb and my ears are starting to ring.

It's been a long time since he's had me in this good of a hold, I'm usually better at getting away than I was this time.

This time I was too slow.

The world starts to blur and dim around the edges and I'm suffocating from my lack of air.

He releases my shirt, but shoves me at the same time so I fall onto some stupid wiry side table in our hall that has my parent's 30 year old framed wedding picture setting on it.

"Some boy came here looking for you today. Told him you were out whoring around, just like always."

I gasp out a "Shit." as my lungs struggle for air.

My body bent the wire table so I'm half laying on it right now and the frame's glass is shattered.

I'm really not good with glass, I think to myself as I see a small cut on my palm from where I tried to catch myself as I was falling.

Then the towering figure that is my dad shuffles over to me and I try to get to my feet.

I'm too slow again.

His foot connects with the back of my thigh, hard, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming.

That's gonna bruise.

The kick does what he wants - keeps me from getting up.

"Stupid bitch, you never did do as I asked!" he says as he moves sightly, then aligns his foot to my abdomen.

Oh my God.

I scream out as he kicks me.

He does that again, and again, and again.

I'm on the verge of blacking out when he grabs my collar again and pulls me to my feet, but I can't support myself, my stomach hurts too much.

"Stand up, you whore." he growls lowly in my face and I don't respond.

I guess he didn't like my silence because the last thing I remember is his fist in my peripheral, then blackness.

...

I wake up later in the middle of the hallway.

I guess I was out for quite a while because the sun's gone down.

I feel dampness on my hand and lift it up to look at it.

Once I do, I realize that it's not just one cut on my hand - there's two with glass shards still stuck in them. That's not going to be fun to take out.

I sit up slowly and already feel the bruises forming in my body.

I look from side to side and listen in an attempt to locate my parents, but I don't see or hear anything.

The carpet's stained with blood from my hand. I have to try to get that out because I don't want a visual reminder of this confrontation if I can help it.

I hope my hand doesn't scar.

I get up and walk into the bathroom to wash the excess half-dried, half-wet blood from my hand.

When I get in the bathroom I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and immediately wish that I hadn't.

A bruise is already forming on my cheekbone.

I turn on the cold water and gasp as I slide my hand under the water inch by inch. It burns like hell and I realize that I won't be able to leave the house until this all heals.

People will ask what happened and I'm a bad liar.

I'm better with silence than dishonesty.

I don't bother with getting the pieces of glass out yet because I can already feel the tears forming in my eyes. So I lean against the closed bathroom door and slide down it so I'm sitting on the floor with my back holding it closed.

Then I begin to sob. Heavy, uncomfortable, deep sobs.

After a few minutes of crying it hurts my bruised body too much so I force myself to stop even though tears still steadily streak my face.

Once I calm down I stand up and look in the medicine cabinet for tweezers to remove the pieces of shattered frame from my hand and find some after digging around for a few minutes.

It's absolutely excruciating.

I've almost gotten one of the two pieces of glass out when my phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans. I pull it out and see that Calum's calling me.

I inhale deeply then exhale as steadily as I can.

"Hello?" I croak out.

The deep breaths didn't help, it still sounds like I've been crying.

"What's wrong?" he asks and I reply with "Nothing."

Remember when I said I was a bad liar? Yeah, well by default, I wasn't lying about that.

"Don't lie to me, Jackie. Something's obviously wrong. Now, what is it?" he says seriously.

"Uh, well, I'm uh, I'm picking glass out of my hand right now and it hurts like you wouldn't believe." I say quietly and unsteadily, on the verge of crying again.

"What? Why? What happened?" he asks and I try to lie again.

"I was doing dishes and crushed a glass." I say as I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob.

"Yeah, sure you did. I'm coming over." he says strictly.

"No! No, please don't! I mean, I want you to but you'll only make it worse, believe me." I say panicking.

I still don't know if Calum's the one who came over earlier when I wasn't here. Whoever did should've known better than to deal with my dad.

My dad lost his mind when a boy showed up here asking for me earlier, I can't imagine it happening twice in one day.

But before I can protest any further, the line goes dead.

Shit.

I try to call him back, but he doesn't answer.

I'm still trying to call him back when I hear the doorbell ring.

I move from the bathroom to my bedroom and lock my door, preparing for all hell to break loose once my dad answers the door.

I would've answered it, but I wouldn't have been able to get to it before my parents.

A few quiet seconds go by and I'm thinking about how surprised I am that my dad's keeping his cool.

Then I hear Calum.

"Jackie? Jackie, where are you?"

Oh, God.

I open my door slightly, making sure to stay hidden behind it so that he can't see my face yet.

A/N: So, uh, Jackie's parents aren't very nice. At all. Sorry if this chapter's super depressing but it's kind of important for character development in my opinion. This just passed 100 reads. You have no idea how happy that makes me. Seriously, thank you so much for reading! Vote and comment, please!