Inside Your Heaven

Inside Your Heaven [A Justin Bieber Story] *1*

Oh shizzz! lol new story?! I was going to post this after i finish Our Hearts but since that has a long way to go, i thought i'd post it as an early vday surprise! lol This will be the last story i post until i finish another. If i keep coming up with ideas then writer's block will set in and i cant let that happen! lol just like i cant let a good idea go to waste. Don't forget to COMMENT and VOTE and FAN! It keeps me going! LUV YALL hope you like the FIRST chappie ;) xo

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= Lizzy =

"Dad! Let me go!" My father's hand gripped my arm and using his other hand, he slapped me. Hard and painful. The pain was unbearable but I was becoming used to it. He glared at me, his hand raised to slap me again.

"Are you going to keep whining?!" he yelled. His voice rang in my ears.

"I didn't do anything-"

Slap. The pain shot through my face and all the way down to the tip of my toes.

"Your mother would be ashamed!" He screamed and let me go, making sure to push me hard enough so that I would stagger back and hit the wall with a loud bang.

"Go to your room!" he ordered. "I don't want to see you!"

I pushed away the tears because if I cried then it would just give him pleasure. I stomped up to my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I was almost scared to look in the mirror but I did anyways. I had to see what he'd done to me this time. I cringed when I exposed myself to the mirror. I had black eye and half my face was literally burning red. There were scratches all over my arm and he'd left a mark from where he'd been gripping me. It became worse everyday. My black, curly hair wasn't even curly and my eyes were barely blue. I turned away, not wanting to look anymore. I just wanted an escape. I threw myself onto me bed and curled up under the covers. Screw my life. Screw my father. I wanted my mommy. I needed her. Why'd you have to take her, god, why?! I sobbed into my pillow until it was soaked. I guess I slept on a wet pillow that night...again.

-

Morning came and went and I was still in bed. I didn't go to school. I coulnt deal with other people's crap today. I just wanted to sleep the day away and be night and maybe the rest of my life.

"Lizzy Keegan!" My father's fist pounded on my bedroom door. I clenched my teeth, not answering. Before I knew it, the door was open and he was angrily stomping toward me.

"Why aren't you in school?!" He thundered.

I pulled the covers up to my nose. "Im sick."

"That's no excuse!" He ripped the covers off me, leaving me bare in my PJs. I curled up in a ball, awaiting what comes next.

"Did you know it's 3 pm?! You're not at school!" He hand hit my face. His slap echoed throughout my room and my cheek throbbed.

"I don't give a damn about school!" I shrieked at him. I was getting sick of this. Of him. Of everything.

"Well I want you at school, so go!" He grabbed both my upper arms with his hand and pulled my up to his face.

"Make me." I whispered, my lips trembling.

"Your just like your mother. Stupid, ugly, and worth nothing." He laughed one of his low, evil-like laughs. "Your lucky I keep you in my home. You're just a mistake."

Tears were streaming down my face now. It's been months since I've cried in front of him but his words were like a million little knives cutting me all over.

"I hate you." I gritted.

He smirked. "You shouldn't say that. You have a home because of me. I kept you when your mother died." He tightened his grip on me and then I felt him let go of one arm and something grazing my neck.

"See this?" He held something up. "It's a razor." I wanted to look away. I wanted to run. He used that razor three months ago but I had avoided it since. It was too hard to hide the scars it caused. I was the one who used it...on my wrist. No one ever noticed those scars.

"You should never talk back to me, Lizzy." He brought the razor up to my face, brushing it against my cheek. I waited for the pain. Then it came. He pressed the razor against my cheek until it burned. I could feel something rolling down my cheek. Blood. He snickered and pulled the razor down. I cringed.

"Learn." He let razor drop and before it even hit the floor, his hand met my cut cheek in a loud pound. Pain shot through my body and I could help but let out a scream.

"Shut up!" He yelled. "Im going out. Maybe you'll go to school tomorrow and learn." He have me a push and I fell back on my bed. He chuckled and walked out of my room. I cried harder. If he enjoyed my pain so much then why couldn't he just kill me?! I walked over to my mirror. This was worse than before. His cut ran from beneath my right eye all the way to my chin. It burned and ached. My entire face was red this time. I looked away and noticed the razor was still on the floor. I picked it up and pulled up my pj's sleeve. The mark from past cuts' were still there. I slowly brought the razor down on my skin, cutting over the bare parts were I hadn't cut yet. Blood flowed out, staining my pjs. This pain didn't hurt. Not like the one he caused me. I should end all this. I should go with mom. She'd want me with her. Safe. I let the razor drop and I ran downstairs. I had to end all this. I opened the door and ran out. I had to do something. I had to go with mom. No more pain. With mom. I kept running and stopped at the edge of the street. I could hear a car in the distance. I saw the lights overhead and as the car got closer...I stepped onto the street. I could feel it close now, almost on me. Mom. No more pain. Mom.

"Watch out!" There was a loud screetching and the noise of the car stopped. I fell to the ground, curling up into a ball and crying. I closed my eyes, wishing that this would just end. I heard a car door open and then two urgent voices.

"Is she ok?" A voice said. It sounded like a man's voice.

"She's bleeding. I think she's in shock or something." Came a boyish voice. It was closer.

"We should take her to the hospital." Said the man voice.

"No. Please, no." I whimpered, keeping my eyes tightly shut.

"Let's just take her home." Stated the boyish voice. "I don't think she should be here." I felt two arms scoop me up. I didn't do or say anythig else. Whoever was carrying, probably the boy, gently placed me in the backseat of their car. I felt him scoot in beside me and place my head on his lap.

"I guess you won't be taking your permit today, JB." The man voice said.

"Guess not." The boy's fingers caressed my cheek, probably observing the red, jagged scar. Seconds later, I blacked out.