Nameless

...~Love is never wrong~...

I leaned against the bathroom door with the water running. It still didn't muffle her screams. I covered my ears knowing it wouldn't do much either. I sat quietly, not daring to make any other noises.

He'd hurt me too.

At times like these, I'm really glad I'm an only child. I closed my eyes tightly as I heard a piercing scream from my mother before it became deafeningly silent. I quickly shut the tap off, knowing he'd definitely be able to hear me now.

I heard the door slam shut but I still didn't dare to move because he'd be back. If he caught me trying to help her, he'd hurt me ten times worse than what he's done to my mother.

I bit my lip and counted to sixty once before waiting a moment and starting again before coming to the conclusion that he's left and won't be coming back anytime soon.

Gingerly, I cracked open the bathroom door and looked both ways before stepping out fully. My floral dress flowed beautifully as I tiptoed downstairs. Noticing a small tear on the sleeve, I frowned before making a mental note to sew it later.

"Mom?," I whispered before waiting a moment to hear any noise from her. She let out a groan. Quickly, I followed the sound to see her on the floor in the kitchen. I sat on the floor beside her and lifted her head gently before placing her in my lap. I ran my fingers through her hair and sang the same lullaby she's sang to me since I was a child.

She coughed interrupting me causing my hand movements to halt. "I'm sorry mom," I told her. "I tore your dress. Don't worry, I'll fix it," I reassured her. She gasped for air as she gripped my arms, most definitely causing that tiny little tear to widen.

"Hush little baby don't say a word," I sang quietly, silencing her as she attempted to speak. I let out a sigh as I stopped singing. I turned my attention towards the locked window.

There's a whole world out there that I've never seen. The only part of the huge world I've seen is my back garden and that isn't very pretty to look at. When I'm out there, supervised obviously by my dad, I hear the chatter of others from afar, for some strange reason people are really loud. I can never spot them but I can always hear them as they speak briefly about their day.

I slowly put my mothers head back on the ground. I stood up and dusted my dress off before picking up all the broken glass pieces off the ground.

This is my life. This is all I've ever known for the 18 years I've been on this earth. I've been confined to these walls since my birth, never allowed to communicate with other children my age. My mom did as best as she could with teaching me the basics of life. She taught me everything she could with the limited resources we have. She taught me how to read and write but it's been a while since I've done either of those so I don't think I remember how to do them.

She tells me stories of her childhood and school life. She tells me stories of her, her classmates and friends. She tells me random facts about her parents, my grandparents, since she and I haven't met them during my entire life on this earth. My father doesn't allow it. She tells me that if she could show me pictures she would.

My father doesn't spend money on us, only for our basic necessities so my mom learnt how to use old and spare materials to create something new. Just like the pretty floral dress I'm wearing. My mom hasn't been outside of the property since I was born.

The stories she tells me of life outside of this property makes me envious of her because she got to experience it all. I never will. She's also made me realize that our lifestyle isn't normal. The only people I've ever interacted with are my parents. We don't have a tv either because my dad can't afford it so I mostly spend my time tending to my wounds or sewing a new dress.

To my father I am nameless but to my mother I am Evangeline Kingston. I'm still not quite sure on how to spell it. My father refers to me as 'her' or 'bitch'. To him, I am a nobody, a nameless child.

My mom refused to answer me once when I had asked what 'bitch' means. I still don't know the exact definition but I know for sure it's not a good word.

Suddenly, I heard the door slam shut, telling me my father had arrived home. He didn't even acknowledge me as he walked straight past me and headed for the refrigerator. He pulled out a carton of orange juice and drank straight from the carton before putting back where it belongs.

I held a sigh inside as I got on my hands and knees, dirtying my dress in the process, as I scrubbed the blood off the tiled floor. A while later, my hands were raw and red from all the scrubbing but I knew I couldn't stop until I had gotten all the blood off the floor.

I flinched as I heard my mother groan in pain as he kicked her side harshly causing her to slam onto her stomach. I didn't dare to look towards them. I kept my eyes on the ground and scrubbed as hard as I possibly could.

My mothers childhood wasn't like this yet mine is. This is normal for me yet I know it's not normal for her.

"Get up," he mumbled as he pulled my mother up on her two feet. She winced, holding her side with one hand as the other gripped onto the counter for support once she was up. "I'm getting rid you," he spoke flatly. I turned to face him and furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, knowing full well he was talking to me.

Getting rid of me? What does that even mean?

You can't get rid of humans, right?

..._____________________...

Hello guys this is my first story plz do like, comment and vote if you like the story. ❤

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