Reborn
Chapter 1 - Leaving
Alex's Prov
I looked into the mirror as I examined my bruised face. Not as many bruises as before I thought to myself. I picked up the towel that lay on the floor in a heap and placed it in the hamper. The clock in the hall chimed midnight. I walked over to my bed and carefully got in; trying not to hurt my sore and bruised body.
I closed my eyes and began to drift off to sleep when I heard my father yelling “Alexandra! Come and clean up this broken glass!” My father is a 45 year old man, CEO at his firm, and he has abused me ever since my mother died from breast cancer five year ago. The flashback of her death came back to me; and I could tell my eyes were tearing up. I pushed the memory to the back of my mind, sighed, and walked out of my room. By this time my father was already in his room taking his shower. I went into the living room and began to pick up the broken glass.
Once I finished picking up the glass and threw it away I returned to my bedroom and began to think. I’ve thought about running away from my home situation for awhile now; but this time I was going through with it. I already bought my ticket, and I slowly began to pack up the necessities I would need into two large duffle bags. My father was scheduled for a weeklong conference in Detroit next week, so that would give me plenty of time to finish up packing and make my way to the airport. I fell into a deep sleep while thinking about my plan to escape my father. I woke up the next day sorer than the night before. I was glad it was summer vacation so my friends at school wouldn’t see me like this. My father was at work by the time I woke up. I walked to the kitchen and saw a to-do list on the fridge. “I wonder how long the list is today?” I spoke to the fish on the counter. Sighing I opened the fridge and got fruit and yogurt out to make a smoothie for lunch. I looked at the clock, eleven forty-five; that means about six hours till my father gets home and I still haven’t done a single thing on the list.
After two stressful hours I finally finished mowing the lawn. It was no help that the lawnmower kept breaking. The next three hours consisted of cleaning the house, washing his cars, and picking up bottles and cans of beer that had be strewn around the house. When I finished the last task I had an hour before he would be home. I took a shower to try to remove the smell of beer off of me. By the time I was putting my shirt on I heard the garage door opening. My father stumbled through the doorway and fell on the couch stone drunk. He actually landed on the couch this time I thought.
“Alex, go down to the Chinese House and get some food.” he mumbled into the couch.
“Sure thing.” I said trying to lighten up his spirit. “Do you want the usual?”
“Mhm.” was all I heard. I grabbed my purse, keys, and jogged out the door. If I didn’t hurry and get the food, my father would be more furious than he already was. I made a call and ordered our food on the way to the restaurant. By the time I arrived the lady had the food waiting on the counter. I paid for it with my credit card and said thank you.
“No problem dear. Please come back soon.” the lady behind the counter said in her Chinese accent. I smiled back and made my way to the car. By the time I arrived back home my father still laid on the couch.
“Dad, I have your food. Time to get up.” I spoke with my back to him. I placed our food on two plates and brought his over to him. As I turned to get my plate he grabbed my arm. Wincing in pain at his grip I asked him “Is there anything else you would like me to do?”
“Put in the Titanic.” he said releasing my arm.
Well that’s going to add some to my collection I said to myself looking at the bruises already forming. Titanic was his and my mother’s movie. He would ask me, with force, to put it on whenever he had days like this. I placed the DVD into the player and took my seat in the chair opposite the television. We watched the movie in silence, since this was the only item he had left of my mother’s. Once the film ended I looked at my phone. Nine twenty-seven. By this time Monday my father would be in Detroit and I would be making my way to the airport. Sunday came and my father began to pack. “Father I. . .” but before I could finish he cut me off. “For goodness sake’s! What is it Alexandra?!” he yelled from his closet. I could tell by his voice what I was going to ask him would surely light his fuse of fury.
“I was wondering if I could have money while you’re aw. . .” but before I could even finish what I was saying I felt a blow to my face. I fell to the ground holding my jaw. My father walked over to me and repeatedly kicked my abdomen. “Father please stop!” I cried in-between him kicking and punching me “I didn’t mean to upset you! Please dad I won’t do it again! I promise!” I pleaded with him.
“You ungrateful bitch! I give you everything and yet you ask for more!” he screamed into my red, swollen, and tear-stained face. The beating continued for thirty more minutes until he came to a stop. I heard the door slam behind him. I lay on the floor not daring to move unless he returned. Hours passed and I finally gathered up enough strength to crawl back to my room. When I finally made it I closed the door behind me and went into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror and saw what my father had done to me.
“I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t.” I sobbed while looking at myself in the mirror. I turned on the faucet and ran the cool water over my face. I stumbled to the tub and began to fill it. After my bath I heard footsteps in the hallway. I poked my head out and saw my father with his bags. I closed the door and ambled over to my bed. As I pulled the covers up slowly over my bruised body and I stared at the ceiling. And I heard my father whistle for a cab and head off. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I woke up with a jolt due to the vibration of my phone. I looked and saw that the alarm was going off, but why? I sat up suddenly ignoring the pain I just caused myself. My flight! “Damn it.” I mumbled as I swung my legs over the side. I looked down at my bruised legs and arms. I stood up very slowly and made my way to the closet, which was practically bare. I dragged out my over-flowing duffle bags and my carry-on bag, which would hold all of my electronics.
I packed up all the remaining items and called a cab to come and pick me up. Walking out of my bedroom I made my way through the house. This was the home I’ve grown up in since we moved down here fifteen years ago. As I walked into the living room I saw an envelope. I noticed there was a note attached to it.
Alexandra,
Here’s some money for the week. It should get you through.
Dad.
I opened it up and there was about three thousand dollars in cash. I gasped aloud at the sight and had to hold onto something to keep me standing. I put the cash into my spare wallet which was in my carry-on bag. The cab arrived just as I finished placing the final items in my duffels. The cabbie helped gather my luggage and put the bags into the trunk. I traipsed around my room to see if I forgot anything. I stared at the empty shelves, walls, dresser, and closet. I already sent boxes with all my photos, trophies, and other knickknacks over to Manchester. I stepped into the cab and buckled up.
I looked into the mirror as I examined my bruised face. Not as many bruises as before I thought to myself. I picked up the towel that lay on the floor in a heap and placed it in the hamper. The clock in the hall chimed midnight. I walked over to my bed and carefully got in; trying not to hurt my sore and bruised body.
I closed my eyes and began to drift off to sleep when I heard my father yelling “Alexandra! Come and clean up this broken glass!” My father is a 45 year old man, CEO at his firm, and he has abused me ever since my mother died from breast cancer five year ago. The flashback of her death came back to me; and I could tell my eyes were tearing up. I pushed the memory to the back of my mind, sighed, and walked out of my room. By this time my father was already in his room taking his shower. I went into the living room and began to pick up the broken glass.
Once I finished picking up the glass and threw it away I returned to my bedroom and began to think. I’ve thought about running away from my home situation for awhile now; but this time I was going through with it. I already bought my ticket, and I slowly began to pack up the necessities I would need into two large duffle bags. My father was scheduled for a weeklong conference in Detroit next week, so that would give me plenty of time to finish up packing and make my way to the airport. I fell into a deep sleep while thinking about my plan to escape my father. I woke up the next day sorer than the night before. I was glad it was summer vacation so my friends at school wouldn’t see me like this. My father was at work by the time I woke up. I walked to the kitchen and saw a to-do list on the fridge. “I wonder how long the list is today?” I spoke to the fish on the counter. Sighing I opened the fridge and got fruit and yogurt out to make a smoothie for lunch. I looked at the clock, eleven forty-five; that means about six hours till my father gets home and I still haven’t done a single thing on the list.
After two stressful hours I finally finished mowing the lawn. It was no help that the lawnmower kept breaking. The next three hours consisted of cleaning the house, washing his cars, and picking up bottles and cans of beer that had be strewn around the house. When I finished the last task I had an hour before he would be home. I took a shower to try to remove the smell of beer off of me. By the time I was putting my shirt on I heard the garage door opening. My father stumbled through the doorway and fell on the couch stone drunk. He actually landed on the couch this time I thought.
“Alex, go down to the Chinese House and get some food.” he mumbled into the couch.
“Sure thing.” I said trying to lighten up his spirit. “Do you want the usual?”
“Mhm.” was all I heard. I grabbed my purse, keys, and jogged out the door. If I didn’t hurry and get the food, my father would be more furious than he already was. I made a call and ordered our food on the way to the restaurant. By the time I arrived the lady had the food waiting on the counter. I paid for it with my credit card and said thank you.
“No problem dear. Please come back soon.” the lady behind the counter said in her Chinese accent. I smiled back and made my way to the car. By the time I arrived back home my father still laid on the couch.
“Dad, I have your food. Time to get up.” I spoke with my back to him. I placed our food on two plates and brought his over to him. As I turned to get my plate he grabbed my arm. Wincing in pain at his grip I asked him “Is there anything else you would like me to do?”
“Put in the Titanic.” he said releasing my arm.
Well that’s going to add some to my collection I said to myself looking at the bruises already forming. Titanic was his and my mother’s movie. He would ask me, with force, to put it on whenever he had days like this. I placed the DVD into the player and took my seat in the chair opposite the television. We watched the movie in silence, since this was the only item he had left of my mother’s. Once the film ended I looked at my phone. Nine twenty-seven. By this time Monday my father would be in Detroit and I would be making my way to the airport. Sunday came and my father began to pack. “Father I. . .” but before I could finish he cut me off. “For goodness sake’s! What is it Alexandra?!” he yelled from his closet. I could tell by his voice what I was going to ask him would surely light his fuse of fury.
“I was wondering if I could have money while you’re aw. . .” but before I could even finish what I was saying I felt a blow to my face. I fell to the ground holding my jaw. My father walked over to me and repeatedly kicked my abdomen. “Father please stop!” I cried in-between him kicking and punching me “I didn’t mean to upset you! Please dad I won’t do it again! I promise!” I pleaded with him.
“You ungrateful bitch! I give you everything and yet you ask for more!” he screamed into my red, swollen, and tear-stained face. The beating continued for thirty more minutes until he came to a stop. I heard the door slam behind him. I lay on the floor not daring to move unless he returned. Hours passed and I finally gathered up enough strength to crawl back to my room. When I finally made it I closed the door behind me and went into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror and saw what my father had done to me.
“I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t.” I sobbed while looking at myself in the mirror. I turned on the faucet and ran the cool water over my face. I stumbled to the tub and began to fill it. After my bath I heard footsteps in the hallway. I poked my head out and saw my father with his bags. I closed the door and ambled over to my bed. As I pulled the covers up slowly over my bruised body and I stared at the ceiling. And I heard my father whistle for a cab and head off. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I woke up with a jolt due to the vibration of my phone. I looked and saw that the alarm was going off, but why? I sat up suddenly ignoring the pain I just caused myself. My flight! “Damn it.” I mumbled as I swung my legs over the side. I looked down at my bruised legs and arms. I stood up very slowly and made my way to the closet, which was practically bare. I dragged out my over-flowing duffle bags and my carry-on bag, which would hold all of my electronics.
I packed up all the remaining items and called a cab to come and pick me up. Walking out of my bedroom I made my way through the house. This was the home I’ve grown up in since we moved down here fifteen years ago. As I walked into the living room I saw an envelope. I noticed there was a note attached to it.
Alexandra,
Here’s some money for the week. It should get you through.
Dad.
I opened it up and there was about three thousand dollars in cash. I gasped aloud at the sight and had to hold onto something to keep me standing. I put the cash into my spare wallet which was in my carry-on bag. The cab arrived just as I finished placing the final items in my duffels. The cabbie helped gather my luggage and put the bags into the trunk. I traipsed around my room to see if I forgot anything. I stared at the empty shelves, walls, dresser, and closet. I already sent boxes with all my photos, trophies, and other knickknacks over to Manchester. I stepped into the cab and buckled up.
Notes
Hey guys so this is a story i was writing for school. Hope you guys like it. :) dont forget to comment, subscribe, and rate. Thanks guys :)
