We're Working on Trust Lucifer's Daughter

Hell Day number..........?

A/n hey guys. Please be careful in this chapter. There is lots of abuse and some suicidal thoughts (just not caring about what happens). Please be cautious. Other than that I hope I did a good job conveying the situation and such. As always, I hope you're having a wonderful day/evening/night. And if you or anyone else are going through any kind of abuse please talk about it. No matter how insignificant you may think it is or how scared you are just open up a little. To someone. Anyone. If it affects you in any negative way it's toxic.

Your mom didn't come home that night. Or the night after. She did last night though. She was upset about something. And decided to take it out on you. It was safe to say that you probably had a bruised rib and were limping. You'd live though.

This morning you had gotten up glad you didn't eat much. Had you actually eaten you would have been starving.

"IN HERE. NOW!!" your mother called

You silently made your way to the kitchen.

"DO YOU SEE THIS?" she said shoving a glass in your face.

Oh no. she was drunk.

"Yes ma'am," you replied.

"ITS DIRTY." she screeched

You nodded.

"YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT. YOU C**T." she pushed you to the wall and threw you on the ground.

"LOOK AT THIS"

The glass shattered as it hit the wall.

"LOOK AT THIS" she repeated as she threw more glass from out of the dishwasher at you.

"S-sorry ma'am" you whimpered.

"SHUT UP! YOU DESERVE THIS. YOU DESERVE ALL OF THIS. YOU CAN'T BEHAVE FOR YOUR LIFE. YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN BE ALIVE RIGHT NOW. AND YOUR NOT EVEN GRATEFUL."

"I am ma'am. I promise. I'm so-"

"NO! YOU'RE AN UNGRATEFUL B!TCH. YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE."

She turned from the dishwasher. Glass cracked under her shoes as she stomped over to you. You knew better than to run. You knew better to move too. So you slowly brought your cut-up hands to cover your head and brought your knees slightly closer to your chest. You hoped she was drunk enough to miss it.

She wasn't.

You flinched as the first of many strikes hit your rib. The top piece (point) of her heel punctured and scratched your skin with every hit. And if it wasn't pleading it would feel like it was later.

"GET UP!" she demanded.

When you didn't another kick was delivered to your thigh. You squeaked a bit and forced yourself to a stand. Glass shards dug into your hands and feet as you stood.

"Clean this up. And if I get back and there's so much as a shard of glass-" she stopped and smiled.

And with that, she left.

She never smiled like that.

You felt unsettled but didn't have time to focus on it as you were actively bleeding and likely risking your life if you didn't start cleaning ASAP.

You swept up the glass and ran the vacuum just in case. Your mind wandered while you mopped.

That was a lot quicker than usual. It usually took more than that to set her off. She's probably sick of dealing with all my mistakes.

You double-checked the kitchen then went to the bathroom to patch up. You spent 2 hours digging glass out of your wounds. Your hands had started to shake and your eyes were blurry from either the pain or your stress over possibly having to go to the hospital. You checked all your wounds again before running the glass cuts underwater and taking a shower. The next hour you spent wrapping your torso and appendages.

Damn did heels hurt to be kicked with.

You yawned as you stumbled to the basement. Flopping onto your bed, you felt the full effects of how tired you were. Everything in you felt empty. Your whole body ached and felt like it was filled with sand. You longed to give in to sleep.

But if you slept you didn't know what she would do when she came back.

Then again- You didn't know if you cared what she did.

Maybe The world would be better off if you were dead.

Maybe

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