Crystal Cove
~Prolouge~
~Prologue~
It was a dark, gloomy morning. The rain pattered at the roof and my window as the thunder rumbled through out the dark sky. I rose from a long, restless sleep, my hair long, auburn hair was twisted into knots and my hazel eyes were heavy with sleep. It felt that I should never wake up and just live in my dream world, die knowing only my dream world, but I knew my fantasy would sooner or later come to an end. I always kept in the back of my mind that if I slept in too long my mother or father would burst into my room, busting the rotting door more than it already was, scream at the top of there lungs and my beating would be worse than it usually is. I always woke up with a head-splitting headache, but today it felt much worse than normal. I placed my hand on my forehead; I could tell this wasn't another headache, but a fever. It wasn't much longer that I heard my mother screaming up the stairs with her usual threats. With a long sigh I threw the covers off my bed and placed my cut and bruised feet on the cold, hard wooden floor. I longed to live anywhere but here in the tortuous place I was suppose to call home, but this wasn't a home, but a hell house. Beatings when I wake, before I sleep, my so called parents would find any excuse to give me a good beating. I was lucky to get away with a few scratches, completely bruised limbs and at least some blood drawn. I was just grateful for being well-fed most of the time. Pulling my knotted hair back into a bun I scurried out of my room before my mother or father could come thundering up the stairs to begin my beating early.
As I threw my door open to rush down stairs, I met my little brother, Jason, just outside of my room.
"H-hey Lindsay" he stuttered in a small voice with a nervous smile spread across his face. I knew he felt pity for me since he never got a beating, since I always took the blame for him, getting the fierce beating he should've gotten.
"Hey Jason..." I said back softly, laying a shaky hand on his shoulder and giving him a comforting smile. Unexpectedly he flung his arms around me, in a hug and started weeping. I peered down the stairs at my impatient mother and flashed my attention back to Jason, wiping away his tears with my thumb.
"Hey, no more crying. I don't want you getting a beating, because you know mom and dad won't go easy on you."
"Yeah, I know...but I don't want you getting beaten because of me."
"What is taking you two so long?!" my mother's crackled voice shouted up the stairs.
"I'll be fine" I insisted quietly to Jason before peeling him off and pushing him gently towards the stairs, following him quickly down the steep, creaking stairs. With every step there was a creaking sound that always put my mother on edge, and if you didn't get down the stairs fast enough she would have gone completely crazy.
Before I was able to make a mad dash to the kitchen my mother grabbed my shoulder, digging her long, sharp nails through my t-shirt and into my flesh. I held back a blood curdling scream, and bit my lip. I knew exactly what was going to happen, but I had only wished I would be able to eat before getting my morning beating, which would always have a lame excuse to why I 'deserved' the beating.
"You are 15 years old you do NOT need to be sleeping until 10:30, when there are plenty of chores to be done!" she sneered in my ear and dug her nails deeper into my flesh. I bit my lip harder and looked at the kitchen walk-way to see Jason peering out from the kitchen over at me. Fear flooded his dark, chocolate brown eyes and hot tears began to well up in my eyes. Giving me a hard shove, my mother's nails released my now pierced flesh, I stumbled, almost falling to the floor, but was lucky enough to catch my balance and lean against the wall.
"Go eat" my mother's harsh voice demanded, before disappearing into her room down the hall. I skidded down the wall to sit down. Covering my face with my hands I began to cry, the hot tears sliced down my cold, pale face and onto my lap. I could hear Jason whining as he watched me cry, but not long after the whining stopped and my father's booming voice echoed in my head.
"Quit you're damn crying and get in here and eat." I looked up from my hands, to look at him and saw a sharp knife clutched tightly in his hand. I stood up slowly and silently begged for some comfort or pity from my father, but I also knew he couldn't read my mind, so I just cautiously walked to the dinning table, taking a seat on a cold, steel chair. Walking over to me, my father dropped a glass plate on the table in front of me. All that lay on the plate was a tiny portion of scrambled eggs and a small stick of sausage.
"A breakfast for a toddler" I thought silently to myself. I quickly ate the food on the plate, which was almost cold to the touch. Seeing me take the last bite of the breakfast, he ordered Jason to go upstairs to his room. Once Jason had scurried up to his room, my father laid a tight grasp on my newly wounded shoulder. Without thinking a let out a scream that echoed through out the house.
"Who do you think can save you?! You know what you did and now you will pay for it! Screaming and crying won't do anything for you!" My father hissed in my ear, moving the hand that was on my shoulder to my chin, holding my head back to revile my neck. Using the other hand, which still held the knife, he moved to my neck, placing the blade ever so gently on my throat. I tried to resist swallowing hard, but it came all too natural, and as my neck raised, it made contact with the blade, slicing part of my throat. I screamed at the pain, focring the blade even deeper into my throat.
"He is going to end up killing me!" I thought as a cold sweat began to take place on my burning forehead.
