Waking up was very disorienting to say the least. I woke up in a room I didn't recognize which in turn caused my anxiety to spike but then it dropped once I recognized the smell that wrapped around me like a warm blanket. The warm earthy smell mixed with something slightly sweet like spring flowers floated into my mind finally sparking a hint of recognition, this smell was all Ashton, I was in Ashton's room. Allowing myself a few moments to be a little bit of a creep, I berried my face into his pillows and took a deep breath. I felt the tension and pain just melt from my muscles.
"I see you're awake." A voice like silk flowed through the room breaking me from my moments of peace. Snapping to attention I faced the door and there stood Ashton. He stood there freshly showered with only a pair of jogging bottoms, hair a curly mess sending droplets of water to the floor, and don't even get me started on the drops dropping from his hair and onto his broad muscular chest.
"Um," I blushed, "yeah. Thanks for letting me sleep here."
"It's not a problem, Lyra. You looked like you needed it." Ashton walked into his room and sat at the end of the bed close to my feet. "You look a little better now."
"So that means I looked bad before?" I joked.
"No, but you did look exhausted and about ready to drop." Ashton searched my face which in turn caused me to blush and look down at the blankets. "Hey, don't hide from me."
"Sorry, habit." I admitted softly. Looking up at him I caught a glimpse of the digital clock sitting on his bedside table. "Shit!'
"What?" He asked stunned at the curse word.
"I am so dead when I get home." I jumped up and began to look for my shirt. "I am three hours late."
"Okay well I will take you home." Ashton said softly trying to ease my impending panic attack. "You ready?"
"Yeah." I said as I pulled on my shoes. Thankfully, miraculously, I had been able to hide what my dad does from the boys so none of them knew about what I was walking into when I got home, they think that all of the bruising is from Cindy. Sliding into Ashton's car I began to fight off the dread that was filling my entire body; I knew my father was not going to go easy on me tonight. Not since I was not home to make him dinner or clean the house.
"I enjoyed you being around today." Ashton spoke out breaking into my internal monologue.
"Even though I slept through most of it?" I asked incredulously, how can someone have a good time when the other person is passed out?
"Yes." He breathed out. "I hope you come around more often, maybe even stay awake during one time or another."
"You're pushing your luck, Ash." I joked. "But I do appreciate you letting me stay and sleep."
"It's not a big deal." He laughed. Oh, if only he knew how big of a deal it actually was. Getting sleep like that just peaceful deep sleep was hard to come by for me.
"Well, this is me." I smiled falsely as we pulled into my drive way. "Thanks for the ride."
"You're welcome and I mean it when I say that you are welcome over any time." He turned to look at me after he put the car in park. "You can come to us if you need help."
"I promise you that if I need help then you will be the first to know." I held out my pinkie finger. He laughed at my childish ways but linked his pinkie with mine none the less. "Good night, Ashton."
"Good night, Lyra."
Walking to the front door I finally allowed myself to feel the dread and fear that I had been holding back for the car ride. Opening the door, I was assaulted by the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke. I tried to walk through the house silently and quickly but luck was not on my side as I rounded the corner there was my father, a beer in one hand and a pissed off look on his face. Looking at him I saw just how drunk he must really be; blood shot eyes, sweat pouring from him, and the fact that it looked like the wall was the only thing holding him up. The longer my gaze was on him the angrier he looked.
"Where are your manners, bitch." He growled, well more like slurred. "You know better than to look at me. A bitch like you only deserves to look at the floor."
"Sorry." I mumbled as I forced my eyes to look away from him and to the dirty stained floor.
"Now, do you want to tell me where you were all day?" He asked more like demanded.
"I was at a friend's house." I whispered hoping he would just drop it.
"Like I believe that." My father laughed. "You tried to run away didn't you?"
"NO!" I yelled. I had tried running away one time and the beating I got when he found me left me bed ridden for days, I was in too much pain to move, hell it even hurt to breath. And the pain from the injuries left me filled with pain for weeks after. I never know if he's actually broken anything because I've never been allowed to go to the doctors, even when I'm sick.
"Don't you dare yell at me." He bellowed. Not a second later a harsh smack sent my head flying to the side. Before I knew it he was standing right in front of me with one hit he sent me tumbling to the ground. As soon as I was on the ground he was on top of me, raining down blow after blow on my face, side, stomach, and legs. There was no rhyme or reason to where he was hitting but then again how could there be when he was drunk off his ass.
Suddenly I was lifted off the ground and slammed against the wall, I knew what was coming next. Turning to face the wall I gave up any hope of fighting or someone stopping him, but why would anyone? I had everyone convinced that everything was okay at home. People knew of my father's drunkenness but no one knew of the pain that was inflicted behind closed doors. And that was my decision, I thought at a young age that this was the way it was supposed to be.
"You are going to stand there and take your punishment. If you move or make a sound you will regret it." My father growled his stale breath ghosting over my face with how close he was. Before my brain even had the chance to process the demand a sharp line of fire blossomed across my back from shoulder to the opposing hip. I guess tonight he thought the whip was the best way to punish me. Line of pain after line of pain was added to my back, side, and the backs of my thighs before it was too much and I collapsed. The pain from the whip was one of the worst punishments he had ever come up with. The thin leather of the whip was tough enough to slice through skin and even clothes.
"Stupid bitch, stand up. You aren't done yet." He spat. But try as I might I could not stand. Every time I tried the pain would consume me and crashed back to the floor. "Fine."
He kicked my already broken and bruised body until he was tired. I knew this was how the punishment would end, because I knew he had to feel physically exhausted before he would be happy with his work. After another half an hour of kicks my father finally stopped, exhaustion clear on his face.
"Get your worthless ass out of my face." He growled as he turned and headed into his bedroom. Allowing myself ten minutes of self-pity I stayed curled on the floor before I forced myself to stand but I could only do so with the help of the wall. Leaning on the wall I climbed the stairs slowly trying not to worsen the pain I felt; however, I was failing miserably with that. Without changing or anything I dropped onto my bed and cried until sleep over took me. Dreams filled my mind, dreams of freedom but most were dreams of Ashton. Of happiness and love, days spent cuddling on the couch listening to Michael yelling at his video games.
Another update! I'm still going to dedicate this to ms_michaelclifford13 because on my original version of this they were voting/commenting
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Silver Wolf
FanfictionKnowing that your dad doesn't love you is hard, being told you will always end up alone is even harder. Walking around as the towns freak is like asking for the beatings that were sure to follow but when your dad forces you out of the house so that...
