Chp 1 Pt. 1 Moving Again

Ahsoka

My name is Ahsoka Banks. I know, my father has this weird obsession with Star Wars and I have been made fun for my name for as long as I can remember. I turn seventeen soon but I won’t be celebrating. It is not something worth celebrating. I stare at the mirror as I cover up the bruises from last night. Father never leaves any on my face or anywhere else that I can’t cover up. Even on the hottest day I am forced to wear long sleeve shirts and long pants.

I have a bruise on my hip that is starting to turn purple and wince as I touch it. I quickly finish getting ready to head downstairs to make my father breakfast. The sooner I get that done the sooner I can leave and get to school. Hopefully h is in a better mood than last night and leave me alone.

I start making poached eggs, a huge pile of bacon and toast. The coffee pot is running and the newspaper is sitting on the table. I pile the food on his plate and place it in it’s proper spot with his mug full of coffee. I get to cleaning up the kitchen when I hear the newspaper slam on the dining table, making me jump.

“How is my angel this morning,” says dad, obviously in a better mood this morning. I hate that nickname.

“I’m fine father,” I sign back to him. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I’m mute. Dad says doctors never did figure out why I can’t talk.

He pulls me closer and I stiffen my body at his touch. I hope he doesn’t notice because it angers him when I do that but I can’t help it. When he pulls away there is a petite necklace in the shape of a heart around my neck.

“There, my beautiful angel is ready for school now.”

I look down at the necklace and want to rip it off my neck. I hate when he buys me things. It’s the same old routine, he hurts me in some way and then buys me a gift to say he’s sorry. His constant back and forth mood gives me whiplash. My hands are shaking as I bring them up to sign to him.

“Thank you.”

I turn back to clean up the mess from breakfast, but that appears to have been the wrong move as father grabs me by my arms, turning me back to face him, pulling me into a hug. Like I said, whiplash.

“Eat your breakfast and then get dressed and get to school. Do not be late.”

I quickly finish my breakfast for fear my father’s good mood will suddenly shift. In my rush to finish and place my dishes in the dishwasher, I drop the glass. I cringe as it shatters on the ground. The next thing I know, pain is radiating from the back of my head. I fall onto the shattered glass and blood begins to drip from my hands.

“Clean this shit up you stupid, stupid girl.”

Father stomps out of the house and slams the front door shut. I wait until I hear his truck pull away before moving to clean up anything.My hands are trembling as I pull the glass out and clean up my hands. I grab my backpack, wincing as pain shoots through my hands, and to head to school.

At this point I will definitely be late for school. There have been many times I just wanted it to stop and end it all. But for some reason I can never bring myself to do it. I don’t know why. I don’t want to live anymore, I have nothing to live for. No one cares about me, no one loves me. I will forever be alone in this world.

I get to school and head straight to the main office to get my tardy slip. The receptionist looks at me and immediately writes my slip and shakes her head. This isn’t the first time that I have been late for school and I know once they call my father he will be furious, even though it’s his fault. I am not looking forward to tonight.

I head straight to my history class and hand my teacher the slip. I don’t look at anyone, ducking my head down to try and remain invisible, as I make my way to the back of the classroom. The one thing I can count on is I am really smart and love school. It’s the only thing that makes me happy in my miserable little world. I have straight A’s and if I can ever get out of this hell I hope to go to college. It’s the one thing I hold onto since I can’t bring myself to end it. I don’t know what I want to study but it will get me away from my father.

Now I am sure you are wondering why I have not said a word to anyone about the abuse. Trust me I tried that once and that person ended up dead. The one time I allowed myself to make a friend and told them my secret, my father killed them and buried them somewhere in the middle of no where in Montana. We then picked up and moved here to Idaho. Every time dad gets a call about a bruise that is noticed he immediately moves us and it just gets worse for me. So I don’t try and make friends anymore and I try my hardest to ensure no one sees a bruise.

I have several scars from cuts on my arms and inner thighs. I did those myself. It numbs the pain I feel on a daily basis. I guess it’s the only way I can feel I have control over my own body. I hear the classroom bell ring and I make my way to my locker to grab the text books I’ll need for my next class. I can hear laughter as Bianca is heading her way towards me. She constantly harasses me since I moved here. I am the freak who can’t talk.

“Why hello Ahsoka,” says Bianca as she shoves me against my locker causing all the books to fall to the ground.

I bend down to pick them up, but she grabs me by my hair and pins me to my locker. She looks down at my arm and notices a bruise and some cuts. Shit. I struggle to free myself from her and pull my sleeve back down. He’s going to kill me.

“What the hell is that? You’re a cutter?”

I free myself from her grip, pulling my sleeves down while gathering my books and running away from her. I know she is going to tell everyone. I make it to my math class and sit in the very back. The teachers have learned not to call on me since no one knows sign language. The door to the classroom opens and the principal walks in. He whispers to my teacher and they both look my way. Fuck.

“Ahsoka will you please come with me,” asks the principal.

I want to say no, but I know it’s not an option. I gather my things, lowering my head even further as all eyes follow me. I follow him back to the office and freeze when I see the school nurse and therapist. Great, they definitely know.

“Ahsoka it has been brought to our attention that you have some bruises and cuts on your arm. Will you please show us.”

I look around the room with fear written all over my face as I shake my had no. I really don’t want to have to move again or have my father angry at me.

“Ahsoka, whatever is going on we can help you. Harming yourself is not the answer,” says Ms. Green the therapist.

Ms. Green reaches out to place her hand on mine but I flinch and pull away. All three of them look at each other with worry and I see the principal leave, making a phone call at the front desk.

“Ahsoka I think it would be best if you stayed here after school. We’ve called children’s services and they are going to want to talk to you,” says principal Wes when we returns back into the room.

I am now in full blown panic mode. My heart rate is increasing as I begin hyperventilating. Tears are pooling in my eyes as I look back at these people with pity in their eyes. This isn’t the first time children services were called and now I know he’s definitely going to be angry.

I don’t even grab my backpack as I dash out the door. I hear them calling me to come back, but I am too scared. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I pray they haven’t talked to my father already. One thing I excel at, besides school, is I am really fast. If I could join the track team I would cause I know I could outrun everyone.