prologue

It was the first day back to school for Chloe and already she was dreading it, wishing she could climb back into bed and fall into a blissful sleep. She hadn't slept much the previous night, frightened by her drunken father raging over everything.

When she was younger, her father was the sweetest man alive, he was her roll mode, the man she always went to when she was having problems at schooll. That was until her mother died and the drinking started. He was an angry drunk, always pushing her into corners whenever she made him upset.

Her only escape was sleep, when it would come, and when it wouldn't be riddled with dark nightmares or traumatizing memories that raided her dreams most nights. She didnt mind though, she had gotten used to the nightmares a long time ago, though they still frightened her.

Chloe rolled out of bed and went downstairs to start breakfast for her father before he woke up. she walked down the narrow hallway that lead to the kitchen and the living room. She caught a glance of her father, sitting in his old beaten up leather chair. His head tilted to the side in sleep, he had an empty beer bottle in hand and the small television still playing.

Thank god hes still asleep, she thought as she entered the kitchen. The small six seater dining table in the center of the tiny kitchen was littered with empty bottles of alcohol and cigarette boxes. The kitchen itself was a mess, nothing new and broken plates and glasses sat in the sink, waiting to be thrown away.

Chloe sighed, wishing they could go back to normal for the thousandth time but knew it was no good to hope on something so hopeless. She got busy preparing her father's breakfast, popping the bread in the toaster and heating up the pan to make his bacon and eggs. She started the coffee and went over to the pantry to look for the ketchup.

As she was searching behind empty packets and boxes, she came across her favorite cereal she always had as a child, hidden in the back. The box was full of mold and as she grabbed it, she felt that it was still half full, she went and threw it in the trash. She hadn't had that cereal in years and she missed the memories that cereal brought of the lazy mornings they would have and how her mother would wake her up with a bowel of that delicious cereal.

She started eating less when her father started drinking as he would always complain about their financial situation. She used to argue with him, saying he should drink less, but she would be rewarded with a slap in the face each time she brought up his drinking. She found it easier to not say anything at all, preferring to be an obedient child rather than getting beaten for opening her mouth.

She prepared her father's food in silence, praying he would still be sound asleep when she left for school so she wouldn't have to deal with his grumpy ass. Though her prayers were never answered as she heard shifting from the lounge and the tv shut off.

Her heart started pounding rapidly in her chest, her stomach turning with anxiety and fear as the footsteps got closer to the kitchen. Knowing he would be mad because his breakfast wasnt done, she started rushing, resulting in her grabbing the pan too low on the handle and burning her hand.

Hissing catcher searing skin, she ran over to the sink on the opposite side of the kitchen and ran her hand under the cold water. Forgetting her father was on his way as she tried calming her read, hot skin. She felt a presence behind her and her heart stopped.

She was grabbed by the back of the neck and thrown against the dining room table, causing the bottles that littered it to crash to the ground, Shattering.

Her father turned the tap off and turned to face her with a grim look on his face, the sides of his mouth pulled down in a frown. Her heart raced as her face paled with dread. He grabbed her arm and leaned in so close, she could smell his foul breath, making her want to gag.

"Wheres my food, you little rat," he ground out through gritted teeth, his blood shot green eyes boring pure rage. They were the same eyes she saw in the mirror every day, eyes she wished to forget.

"On the stove, it's almost done," she stuttered as the toaster went off, startling her. Her heart rate increased rapidly as she braced herself for any impact, squizingbher eyes shut as tight as she could until a headache started to form.

He released her arm and straightened up, grunting in the process as he made his way over to the one end of the dining table, sitting with his arms folded on the table top. He glanced at the silver watch on his wrist, the same watch her mother had gifted him a week before she passed.

A lump rose in her throat as her heart ached at the thought. She straightened her spine and went around the table to finish her father's food. As she was passing him, he grabbed her by the wrist with unbelievable force, pulling her down so she was eye level with him, forcing her to look him in the eye.

His expression was suddenly full of pain, pain that reflected her own. It was a rare moment to witness, to be able to see his guard down, showing his vulnerability. He always hid it with such skill and let anger be his mask, which hardly ever slipped.

"Hurry up, you have five minutes," He said, his mask slipping back into place, making Chloe frown. This was not the man she grew up with but it was the man she had gotten used to seeing over the years. She knew he was still in there somewhere, especially when he showed his pain, even if it was for a split second. That was where her father was, prisoner in his own pain, trying to drink it all away.

She nodded and went back to working on his breakfast which thankfully did not burn. It was less than two minutes later when she started dishing his food into a plate. Placing the plate infront of her father in the only space on the table that wasnt littered with trash. Rushing over to finish his coffee before he started moaning again.

After setting his coffee down next to his plate and handing him the ketchup, she went over to prepare herself a cup.

while she was waiting, she looked out the window, seing the fog laying low in the street. she finished her coffee and went to sit down on the other side of the table. Even though she wished to run back up to her room, she knew he would want her to sit with him.

"Are you ready for school? I dont want you missing the bus on the first day," he asked, sipping on his coffee.

"Yes, I just need to get dressed and I'm ready, packed my bag last night already," she said. Even though she didnt take the bus in the morning because you'd have to pay for it, though she didnt mind walking to school.

"I'm going to work today so I wont be here when you get home," He stayed. Chloe just nodded, having nothing to say.

Her father didnt say anything after that and resumed eating. Once Chloe was done sipping on her coffee, she went to the sink and washed her cup before excusing herself and rushing up the stairs to her bedroom to get ready for school.

She got dressed in her usual baggy attire, consisting of a pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie. After brushing her teeth and hair, she put on her shoes and snuck into her father's bedroom to steal a cigarette she found on his bedside table, knowing he'd never notice with how much he smoked anyway.

On her way out, she grabbed her bag that lay by the front door that had her books, lighter and breath mints inside before exiting the door. Walking down the creaking wooden porch, she began her long walk to school.

The area they lived in wasnt the best with the trash that littered the grass and side walk, the roads were badly maintained with many potholes all over the place and signs half laying on their sides. It wasnt the safest either, though no one has ever tried anything with Chloe for the whole year that they had stayed in that house.

It definitely wasnt the best but it was a lot better than the time they had to stay in a squatter camp and Chloe had to beg on the side of the road after school. She preferred anything over that horrible place and so she was grateful they had a roof over their head to shelter them from the cold.

As she continued her journey, she pulled her bag off her shoulders, scratching through it in search for the lighter she kept in there. Once she found it, she took the cigarette out of her hoodies pocket and out it between her lips. just as she was about to light it, the sleeve of her hoodie pulled down, revealing the forming bruise that surrounded her wrist. She pulled her sleeve back up and lit the cigarette, walking on.

She started smoking about a year after her mother died and she got involved with the wrong crowd, but as the polluted air entered her lungs, she felt her anxiety slowly fade.

She loved the long walks in the morning, allowing her to clear her head. She preferred to walk to school than take the bus, not that she had a choice though because her father would never pay for it, but she liked the long quiet walks every morning before the chaos of students invaded her space. Luckily for her, the afternoon bus was for free, meaning she could grab a lift home and she would be late or her father would freak.

When the school building came into view, she dropped what was left of her cigarette, crushing it with her foot as she started speeding up her pace and lifting her bag higher on her shoulder.