Chapter 2

I've truly never been the person to take the easy way out. And if you don't understand what I mean by that, I'll gladly tell you. Suicide. My mother always use to tell me that was the cowards way out. But after seeing my mother's throat being slit in front of me and my little brother being tortured, suicide no longer seems like a coward's way out.

It seems like heaven. But what I didn't know at the time, is that even though I watched my mother and little brother die in front of me, that wasn't and will never be the worst thing that happened to me. There is so much more to come. So much more pain, devastation, and abuse.

My mother was a very wise woman my dad use to say. While she had her sayings about suicide, she had another that I use to always believe was true. But after everything that just occurred, I'm starting to doubt it. She use to tell me that everything happens for a reason. And that God doesn't give us more than we can handle. But at this moment, I think that saying was complete and utter horse shit made up to make people not give up or try to kill themselves.

My thoughts were consuming me but I was quickly brought out of my plan to quickly end my life by somebody placing their hand on my shoulder. The grip was not slight but it was painful due to their grip being quite harsh. Out of the pain which quickly started to hurt me I turned around and the pain subsided because the person's hand was no longer gripping my shoulder.

My father stood before me. The last time I talked to him, which was in his and my mother's room only about 20 minutes ago, I noticed something about him. Back in the room, the smell of the alcohol was almost completely gone compared to now. The smell was strong and my father's breath reeked of the alcohol. By the smell of it, the substance had to be vodka, which happened to be my father's favorite drink.

My father had been drinking again, which worried me. My guess is that the only reason why he was calm after my shower was because he wasn't drinking and the drinks from earlier had started to leave his body, but now he was even more intoxicated. "He should be here soon." my father reminded me.

By my guessing of what my father had told me so far, the man my father had invited over is not going to take me out to dinner or even something close. The way my father told me to dress and that he also told me to wear red lipstick, I now figured I was about to lose my virginity. And not in the way I wanted to. No way near close.

I nodded. "Speak girl. I don't want anymore nods. I need to know you understand." My father said as he gripped my face and pulled my face closer to his. Now I could definitely tell he was drunk. More totally wasted. I could never totally understand how he could drink that quickly.

I knew even before I nodded, that he wanted a real answer and not some bullshit nod. My father always told me that nodding and shaking your head isn't a real answer. You have to say "yes" or "no". He would always correct me on that. Usually adding a joke in or something along the line. But I knew before I nodded, that if I spoke, that I would start to cry.

And what have we learned so far?

If you guessed that my father HATED crying then you are correct and you have been listening to this shitty story so far! But, without even thinking I nodded to my father's previous sentence sending him into a rage.

He grabbed the closest thing to us which was a small vase my mother use to fill with flowers every Sunday morning, and smashed it against my head making me fall off the small chair I was just currently sitting on.

I yelped out in pain. "What did I just tell you?!" He screamed. "I'm sorry," I muttered out. "You damn well better be. Little whore." My father said. "Get this shit clean up and fix your hair. He will be here soon, and right now you look like shit," he said before marching out of the room in a complete rage and slamming the door shut startling me.

As the second's pass, I wish more and more that he had taken my life as well. I look at the ground and see small glass pieces that were from the flower vase. And as I look at them, I remember a news article about a boy who slit his wrist with glass. This could be my escape. But right before I decided to end it all, I remember what my mother told me right before she died. That sentence will hopefully keep me going.

Right before she died, she told me that I was to try and survive, no matter what. I took a deep breath and decided that from now on, I won't try anything. I will survive this if that is the last thing I do. I need to escape. But only when it's the right time even if I have to endure horrible mental and physical pain. Even if I have to be raped over and over, I will survive.

I will bring justice for my brother, for my mother. And put my bastard of a father away and making my life the best I can. I soon finish putting away the broken glass thankfully not cutting my hand. And once I am done putting away the glass I fix my hair which now had some blood in it. My old soft brown hair had spots of blood. But I doubt it will matter once Devan gets here.

He will probably harm me as my father does. As I thought of that sentence, it stung my heart to even say something bad about my father. I was always the smart, quiet, good girl at school. I kept to my self. I didn't have many friends. My only friend was Julie.

Sweet Julie. She was so kind until she changed. Popularity changes people, you know? But that's a story for another time. I have many stories, that will soon become helpful to me as I try to drown out my pain and sorrow as I am continuously raped. My thoughts will keep me safe.

As I finished up on my makeup, I heard a simple knock at the door. In popped my fathers head not even asking me if I was decent, but by the events of the last few hours, I shouldn't even expect something like that.

"He's here." my father spoke. I took a deep breath in and right before I nodded, I reminded myself not to be so stupid. "Okay." I simply said hoping he would leave it at that. Which, thankfully he did. He then closed the door and I soon heard footsteps drifting off away from the room.

I stood up from the bed and fixed my dress. I took one more deep breath before opening the bedroom door and stepping into the hallway. I could barely breathe, my breath was hitching up and I felt like I was suffocating. I looked at the wall that stood in front of me and I saw a family photo of my mom, my dad, my brother, and me. It was my 12th birthday and my parents took me to the beach.

We were all so happy. I closed my eyes and remember that day. Running around and chasing my little brother after he stole my ice cream right out of my grasp.

But I was quickly taken away from my daydreaming as my father grabbed my arm and dragged me into the living room where Devan stood. As I looked at him, he looked nothing like I had remembered him. He looked older now. "Here she is. Do what you want with her for an hour. Just don't do too much damage. I need her for other things as well." my father warned Devan.

Devan looked at me and smirked. "Don't worry. I won't hurt her too badly." Devan said. I slowly started to back away. But my father stopped me. "So, how much do I owe you again?" Devan asked my father. Devan then reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet that was filled with $100 bills. I knew that money wasn't from a well paying legal job. The money pr0bably came from selling drugs or even killing someone.

"250." my father spoke. I was shocked by his answer. I'm about to get raped and 250 is all I am worth? Wow, I didn't think that would hurt me, but it did. Devan handed him $250 and then my father shook Devan's hand then exited the door locking the door behind him.

"So little lady, what's your name?" Devan asked me. Devan took 1 step toward me and I took 2 steps back to maintain a good distance between us. I looked away from his face because his eyes were almost burning holes through my skull. As my eyes trailed down his jacket I saw a spot. I knew automatically what it was.

Blood.

"What are you?" I asked him not responding to his previous question. "How about we do this since you seem to not want to answer my question. You answer my question, and I answer yours. How does that sound?" Devan asked me. I contemplated the outcome of agreeing to his little game. But I truly couldn't come up with anything bad.

"My name is Megan. Now once again, what are you?" I asked him annoyed. He didn't seem to like my tone of voice clearly by his facial expression as soon as I spat the words out of my mouth. "I'm a hit man. Isn't it obvious?" He asked me. "I just thought you were a simple drug dealer," I stated blankly. "No baby, I am so much more than a drug dealer. So, so, much more. But look, I'm kinda on a tight schedule, so we have to get this on the road." He said again smirking. I shook my head and backed up again.

Devan came toward me but I soon turned around and ran toward the door seeing if it was unlocked. It wasn't. I banged on the door screaming and begging for my father to let me out.

I felt Devan grab my hair and pull me back. He then threw me onto the couch. "Now, quit putting up a fight. The more you do, the more I will hurt you." He said. I began to cry as I knew he was right. He could easily kill me. I reminded myself one more time that I needed to survive this. Even if I have to endure the worst pain imaginable.