AN: Yet ANOTHER angst fic. Sorry can't help it I love me some angst. Anyways lets get to the fan fiction. By the way ' ' is thoughts.

'I hate him' I thought as he slammed me against the wall. 'I really hate him' he thrust is fist hard on my chest knocking my breath out. 'no' he slugged me in the jaw 'I don't hate him' he wrapped his beefy fingers around my already bruised throat 'It's worse' he shook me hard making my head bob back and forth. The back of my head slammed into the cold unforgiving brick 'I can't hate him' I cried out in pain as his knee shot into my groin ' no I loath him' I fell to the floor clutching my crotch , gasping for air pain pulsated from between my legs. He lifted me by my hair and dragged me up the stairs making sure my head , already spinning, hit each step. He slung my bedroom door open and tossed me to the floor like a bag of garbage. He turned on his heels and slammed the door shut behind him. I curled to the fetal position ,shaking violently. I found it hard to breath. Blood poured out of my mouth making a small scarlet pool on the scratched and scarred wood of my floor. The room wouldn't stop spinning. My vision blurred and slowly but surely faded until it was pitch black and so were my thoughts.

I awoke feeling as if a stampede of oxen had trampled me. I began to sit up, ignoring the screams of protest from my body. I struggled to my feet and staggered to my old dusty mirror. What I saw both disgusted and amused me. Blood still ran from my forehead and had crusted along my eyebrow. My lips were dry and cracked and had various splits in them. My usually silver hair was a pinkish red temporarily died from my blood. My eye was swollen and purple. My neck was sticky from blood. My body was littered with bruises, old and new, from black to yellow. I couldn't move my left hand. It was swollen and purple. "Old man still has it in him". I glanced at my alarm clock seeing it was 12:00 am. Too early to be up and about. But my body refused further rest. It was just in too much pain and I had to deal with it. I slowly crept to the door creaking it open. With just a peak down the steps I saw the usual. My haggard old father with a large bottle of booze in his hand and several empty on the floor. "Drunk old coot" I mumbled under my breath. I continued on my way and reached the crooked door to my bathroom. I pressed my shoulder on it to help the door straighten. It creaked open with a loud groan and I stepped inside doing the same thing in closing it. I snatched a towel from the rack and ran hot water over one corner of the towel, using it to scrub my face and proceeding to my body. I examined my left hand more closely. Four broken fingers. Probably from punching the wall in the previous..."disagreement". I gritted my teeth. 'damn this is going to hurt' I snapped each back into place. Each receiving its own wail. Opening the used-to-be medicine cabinet, now cracked with paint peeling into little curls, I pulled out gauze. I dressed my wounds and wrapped my fingers up at tight as my beaten body could managed. I threw the towel over my shoulder and headed back to my room. I paused to peak again. He was asleep now. A thin line of drool ran down to his neck and a strong smell of urine wafted up the stairs. Gross. I clicked my door behind me and dropped the towel on the small pool of smeared blood. Then I practically collapsed into my bed blacking out literally when my head hit the pillow.

I sat up a bit too fast startled greatly by the loud commotion of some old country song about sex and beer. With a groan I realized it was Monday. Monday meant first day of the week. First day of the week meant... school. I hated school with a passion. All I got out of it was more bruises, more insults, more work, sluts, and less sleep. Not worth it if you asked me. But school beat home any day so I slowly stood stretching my sore and stiff muscles. I dragged my feet to my dresser and slid the drawers open. I didn't have many choices. I just settled with black jeans, a tight fitting navy blue shirt, and a gray hoodie. I grabbed a navy blue mask and slid it on. I didn't need people asking too many questions. I stepped to my mirror and combed my now silver again hair up. I slung my bag over my shoulder and tiptoed through the house careful not to wake him. And broke into a sprint to the end of the street, pausing I walked slower. Eventually I reached my classroom and slid in my seat in the far back corner of the class. There I was alone for the rest of the class. It was like that for every class...except math. Note after note reached my desk in one block. Most told me to kill myself already. Or the occasional freak we hate you. Bah normal day at school. It didn't bother me... not anymore. I was used to it. I shouldn't be but I was.

AN: First shot at abuse fics. It turned out better then I expected. Please review. I accept constructive criticism. See you next chappy XD