Broken

Scattered makeup on the floor, she couldn't get her hands to stop shaking, her body to stop hurting. She couldn't breathe through the tears and pain, legs burning, arms bruised. It was the third time that week, but she could never fully recover after it.

Her panties were on the floor, as she was naked under a ‘thrown together’ dress. The fabric hugged every developing curve of her hips and the sleeves constricted her shoulders, while the fabric barely allowed her to breathe.

Her nails struggled to pull the buttons off the back, fingertips bleeding. She was a wreck, unable to stop shaking. The screams still echoed in her ears, still haunted her with every purple bruise that would never leave her skin.

Her father was downstairs, unsatisfied, and probably disappointed about his last beer for the night. The idea of his anger arose a whimper from Leona’s cracked lips. She balled her hands into the blood stained sheets, and she pulled herself up, moving to her broken mirror in the corner.

She stared at the figure in the mirror and wiped her face, staring at the shredded dress that stopped at her thighs. Blood trickled down her thighs to her ankles from her bud, collected at her toes. Her black hair was matted, dry and broken like the rest of her body.

The thought of taking a shower scared her. She’d have to pass by her father and the TV, upsetting him and setting him off again. A cold shiver passed down her spine and she buried her face in her hands.

It wouldn't be all that bad, right?

After all…

She needed a shower.

She bit her lip, ankle tugging on the chain around it. She made it to the dresser and dug out her paper clip. Her delicate fingers picked at the lock with it and she slipped her foot through the ring as it clanged to the floor.

She winced at the sound and whimpered when she heard heavy footsteps up the stairs. She grabbed the chain, struggling to put the ring back around her ankle before her father could catch her. But the ring wouldn't comply.

“C-c’mon, stupid thing…” She whimpered again, clipping it back on, but she was too late.

Her father hovered over her on the bed, leaning real close. She could taste the alcohol on his breath on the back of her tongue as she breathed. She wouldn't meet his gaze, visibly shaking.

“Just what do you think you were doing?” Her father growled.

She shook her head, quiet.

He grabbed her hair, and she wined. “Answer me when I’m talking to you, you little b***h.”

“I-I just wanted a shower.” She cried, tears flowing down her cheeks.

Her father smiled crookedly and dropped her onto the bed. “I’ll give you a shower.”

“D-dad, no…please...” She pleaded, voice dying.

He ignored her begs and pulled at his belt.

“Please!” She tried to back up the best she could on her bed, but the chain groaned and kept her in place.

“Shut up. Undress.”

She fought against his strength as he climbed onto the bed in his boxers.

“No daddy…” Her hands fumbled around on the bed, and she searched under her pillows.

He father kissed up her neck and she bit her lip, hand finally finding what it was searching so hard for. The cold metal was a welcome as she pointed the barrel of the gun towards the man. His eyes went wide at the sight.

“Now honey, that’s a bit extreme…” He started, but was cut off when she cocked the gun.

Leona’s hands shook as she cried and smiled at him. “You wouldn’t know extreme…y-you’re a monster.”

“Honey, put the gun down.”

“Shut up!” She pressed down on the trigger as a warning.

Her father backed off the bed and eyed his daughter, focusing on the gun. He laughed gently.

“You wouldn't shoot your own father, would you?”

Leona gulped hard, trying to calm her shaking hands.

“Put it down, and I’ll take you to the shower.”

Leona shook her head frantically, pulling the trigger down. Gurgling followed after a sharp metal grind and deafening pop. Her father fell to the floor, makeup surrounding his body. More and more tears poured down her face as she dropped the gun.

She stared for hours, and everything finally came together as she climbed off and her bedroom door flung open. She screamed and stumbled backwards, knocking her head into the dresser. Everything went fuzzy and her head swerved as three men entered the room.

“Don’t be afraid, Leona Carbine. You’re safe now.”

One broke the chain from her ankle and cupped her in their arms.

“H-how…?” Was all she could manage.

“The neighbors called us about unusual screaming and gun shots. You’re mother contacted us as well.”

“But…” She buried her face in the officer’s shoulder.

Mamma passed away seven years ago….

Author's Note

I was listening to Jaine's Got a Gun by Aerosmith and this came into mind. Please read and review!!

Reviews

[Dark Angel ~]

Oh. Well then.
It was well written. :) nice job

[Broken Hearted Faux]

Thankies

[- - -]

This is so sad but a rather happy-ish ending. I really liked it. Kept me on the edge, wondering what was going to happen. Very well done ^^

[Broken Hearted Faux]

Thx