Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. Damn.
When 5 year old, Karla walked into her classroom, she hoped no one would see her bruises or notice that her arm was out of place. Last night was horrible. He'd hurt her, but she was the reason he did so. She, who was not really his daughter. He knew that, she knew that, but that didn't stop him from bringing it up every time she was around. A few years ago, around when she turned 4, he was fine. He was fun to be around, but then it happened.
The tragedy that turned their world upside down. She had wanted her nightly glass of milk, but they were out. She begged her mom to go to the store. Although she was young, she was incredibly smart. Many said she was a genius, she walked at 6 months, and said her first word at 10 months, but that didn't stop her nightly routine of a warm glass of milk before bed. Her mom originally told her no, that it was late and she wasn't going to go to the store this late. Karla threw a fit. She was so mad. She wanted her milk and she wanted it now! She begged and whined, and then her mom sighed and left to get her milk. Hour after hour passed, and then the phone rang. Her dad was in tears and she didn't know why. She walked up to him and patted his leg. He turned to her and pushed her off. He slammed the phone down and yelled, "Your mother is dead because of you! Oh, wait, she isn't your mom. Not really, and I am not your father anymore. He died with your "mom.""
She couldn't understand at first, but then she found her file, the file that they kept concerning her conception. She read how her "father's" sperm count was low and how her "mother" couldn't produce any eggs. She read how they had opted for in vitro fertilization using donor sperm and eggs. They had pictures of the people who they got the stuff from. These people were her real parents. The woman was beautiful. Karla could see that she had the woman's hair and mouth. The man was incredibly handsome. She had his eyes, nose, and hands. The rest she couldn't see. She wanted to find these people, but she knew that HE wouldn't let her. She knew she would get into so much trouble if HE found her looking through this stuff, but she didn't care.
She had taken the pictures of her parents. She hid them. She kept them hidden until she was sure HE was asleep. She would pull them out and wish so desperately that they would come for her, that they would want her. One night HE caught her. HE stormed into the room and saw her looking at the photos.
HE snatched them away and said, liquor still heavy on HIS breath, "YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO SEE THEM. YOU ARE NEVER LEAVING ME. YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE CARE OF ME BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID TO MY WIFE!"
She shook in fear. HE turned and collapsed. That was a month ago, but what happened yesterday was a thousand times worse. She had stolen the pictures back. She triple checked to make sure HE was asleep, and once she was certain, she pulled the photos out again. Soon after that, she heard HIM. HE was coming. She hurried to hide the pictures and get into bed before HE found her, but she wasn't fast enough in getting into bed. HE jerked the door open and grabbed her arm. HE twisted it hard and kept hitting her.
She kept turning and trying to get away and finally yelled, "DADDY! PLEASE! STOP!" This only enraged HIM more.
"I AM NOT YOUR FATHER!"
HE smacked her really hard across the face and as she turned, she heard the snap. Shortly after that, she felt the searing pain. She screamed and cried, holding her arm. She knew HE wasn't going to help her. She didn't know what to do. She just climbed into her bed and lay there, cradling her broken arm. When she woke, her arm was different colors, and it hurt worse. HE didn't care. She got dressed carefully and left for school. She was glad to at least have her pictures safe in her backpack.
Now in her classroom, she took her seat, keeping her eyes on the floor as she walked. She placed her arm carefully onto her desk. The jarring of the movement made her hiss at the pain. Mrs. Kolan, her teacher, watched every movement. She watched Karla closely. She saw the young girl place her arm onto her desk. She heard the hiss of pain. She felt sorry for the girl. She walked over to her and squatted next to her.
She tucked her red hair behind her ear and spoke softly, "Karla? What happened? Did you hurt your arm?"
Karla looked at the floor and shook her head. She didn't want trouble. She knew he would be mad and if she was taken from him that she would have no place to go. She wasn't sure if her real parents wanted her.
The teacher spoke to her again, "I am here to help you sweetie," she placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. Karla hissed again. The bruise there hurt as did the burn. Mrs. Kolan heard this. She moved the girl's shirt collar to the side slightly. She saw the fingerprint bruises and the cigarette burns and gasped.
"Karla, who did this?" Karla said nothing, but kept her eyes on the floor, tears welling in her eyes.
"Karla, did your father hit you?"
That was it, Karla stood up quickly and yelled, "HE'S NOT MY FATHER! I AM NOT HIS! I KILLED HIS WIFE! I HAVE TO PAY!"
Tears streamed down her cheeks. The pain from her standing quickly registered in her brain and it was too much. She let the darkness come. It was soothing.
A/N: Should I continue? Review please!