Chapter 1

WHAM!

The blow aimed at her abdomen, knocked Cyra far into the dying bushes of the wild garden of their modest home.

She had anticipated it too late and too low.

Expecting well in advance the coming wave of blows or abuses about to be hurled in her direction for failing to hold her ground, she spat blood and addressed her attacker.

"What? That's it? You're not gonna try and teach me some stupid lesson?" She smirked at his turned back.

The man stopped and tilted his head sideways, making Cyra freeze and resume a guarded posture.

He wasn't saying nothing, which only meant he was devising a plan of attack.

Think, Cyra think. Where could the next one be coming from? Am I keeping any spaces open? No...

"Seems like you almost miss that treatment, eh?"

The man's heavy voice jolted her face to turn a crimson red and she looked away ashamed, feeling better at the man's retreating footsteps.

Next time, she resolved to herself with clenched fists, she'd definitely do more than simply take an unfair beating.

....

Ah!

Cyra kicked off the sheets from her legs and winced. Last night's beat down was pretty damn hard. The pain was being a constant reminder of that fact.

Stumbling to the bathroom, she wiped off the morning dew of the mirror trying to not look at herself and turned on the faucet to splash water on a tired face.

Despite not wanting to, she found herself hooked onto the mirror. At that terrible state of hers.

Ruffled hair reaching upto red veiny eyes,  bruised quivering lips in the cold, cuts on the skin from the previous sparring session with...him. She scared herself with her ghoulish appearance.

Holding the sink tight, she let herself cry. It had been a long time since she did. Though it felt good, a part or her felt like she had let herself down.

She faintly knew what he would say, if he saw her now.

Some crass remark aimed at her gender and it's 'weaknesses'.

Well fuck him! I'll show him by being stronger.

She shutout the pain as best as she could by splashing cold water to shock her wounded lips and scrambled to get ready for the day.

Lifting up her bed, Cyra brought out her clothes for the day. Grinning at the prospect of annoying him by wearing something she knew he wouldn't approve of.

It was an all black outfit of a knee length skirt, and a shirt. It would be great to pair them with a similar colored jacket but alas, she couldn't find any. Of course he had one but Cyra didn't want to let him see her wearing it. Nope, not happening.

Although it would mean she would be freezing in the outside, the biting cold could probably help her be real mad and channelize fury if needed.

The asshats at the school would simply attack her bag any chance they got so she simply didn't bother carrying one at all, instead relying on borrowed stuff. Thus she could be free as a bird while she pranced around the town without a weight on her back.

It also meant she had no notes of her own meaning she was a regular flunk. Not that it really mattered to anyone. She was after all declared an outcast anyway.

God, I hate today.

Helping arrange the room calmed her mind a bit so she took solace as she folded her crumpled sheets, arranged her pillowcase and patted the bed till she was satisfied there were no outstanding creases.

Her appearance meant little to her. At least that was what she wanted to believe. But some fleeting rationale prevented her from behaving like an animal so she pouted as she took time to bathe and found herself staring at her empty reflection at the cupboard mirror.

Pale but gentle skin, big bashful eyes that would widen in both surprise and annoyance with sleek eyebrows that added to her gaze of seriousness and lips that healed faster yet stayed simply alluring in it's own way of simplicity.

Monster. Devil child. Curse upon curse.

Words of abuse or not, it affected her. Though she wouldn't admit. Almost making her crave for a mother.

She parted her hair sideways but decided against wearing any makeup. At least she looked presentable. Maybe. The only time she had to was when the injuries were too prominent to ignore.

Cyra leant heavily on her cupboard shelf which housed her garments, and picked a pair of appropriately matched underwear sighing to herself as she began to dress up.

Cyra's body had developed much to her annoyance, as he had predicted it would. Her figure reminded her of her mother, a troublesome witch she would rather not have anything to do with. But such was genetics.

It had done nothing to reduce stares and bullying addressed her way both at home or at the school. Being a constant subject of gossip and organized hate, more from the females than the other sex.

Well nothing to do about that now.

Cyra strolled downstairs in her flashy gothic attire with a heavy heart filled with uncertainty, wondering if he was gonna spring some other nasty surprise on her this morning.

Bending down to spy through the railing, she found him diligently working out on the kitchen floor.

Phew! He probably won't bother me for a minute there.

Knowing his keen senses for her presence she had walked barefoot with her shoes in her hands, completely forgetting about being quiet as her excitement at having to get away clouded her brain.

He heard her footsteps and said from across the hallway,

"Don't eat from my plate, unless you really want me to not hold back tonight."

That caused her to slump on the chair and groan. Knowing it would make things worse if she skipped his cooking, she grumbled with a piece of toast held under her chin.

"Please...didn't we just spar yesterday?"

"And you still haven't recovered? Shame." He said with a disappointed voice.

As he stood up, his prominent bulge in his atrociously low cut shorts, caught her off guard and she flinched, cursing herself as she turned around and gobbled porridge hurriedly.

"You spilt some...here."

She tried to resist his touch but he held her wrists tight and fingered her chin before lifting her face up. Cyra stared at him with death in her eyes as he wiped off a trail of porridge with his finger and held it to her lips, to feed her.

It would be an understatement to say he made her nearly wet herself with fear as his hellish pupils bored through her with an insane amount of obsessive longing.

"Ungh," She made a partly disgusting and mostly horrified face as she let him pop his finger in and swallowed the trails of porridge dangling from it.

"Clean up before you leave." He said fondling her ears with a strange affection.

Cyra started to breathe normally after a while thinking to herself,

How the hell do I call this man my father any longer?