The Beauty of a Weeping Heart

“What happened to you baby,
I guess we just have to wait and see...”

I nodded my head to the beat of the Guns N' Roses, as I crossed the road. A wind was building up and I brushed the stray bit of my blonde hair impatiently away from my face. I bent my head as I felt the chill of the howling cold, bitter wind whip through the air. The familiar glowing lights of my house grew ever nearer. Closing my eyes, I felt the overwhelming feeling of fear and desperation. I still remembered when it first happened.....

“Go to bed.”

I saw him as a menacing figure, towering above me. He was unshaven, glaring at me with intense dislike. I sensed the angry aura radiating from him and I shrank back. Something inside gave me courage.

“Why?”

He knelt down to my level, the poison dripping in every syllable.

“Because your mother is out working and it's past your bedtime. So go to bed.”

I couldn't describe the hatred I was feeling towards him. I took a step backwards, hating him all the more. How dare he try and order me around!

“You're not my father! Don't tell me what to do!” I yelled.

Slap.

I touched my stinging cheek, shocked. I felt my eyes well up with tears at the pain. No one had ever hit me before, Dad had once punched the table in anger so hard that he drew blood. He would never hit me. Ever. Yet I had just been hit. How dare he?

“I'll tell Mum you hit me.” I whimpered. “You're mean.”

In one swift movement, he picked me up as easily as if I was paper. He laughed and threw me against the wall. I couldn't even scream, the agony was too much. The tears fell and wouldn't stop falling. I could even taste the blood in my mouth. Why did I deserve this?

“If you tell her or anyone else.” He growled. “I'll rape you and then I'll god damn kill you. You understand?“

I stared at him, the fear apparent in my eyes. I believed he would do what he said. I nodded slowly.

His features twisted into a sneer. “Good. Now let me tell you something honey. You address me properly from now on. You listen to what I say. I've already got my beautiful daughter. I don't need a “daughter” that's ugly and worthless yeah?”

I flinched at the stench of his breath. I felt as if I was brushing up against Death itself. I sniffled, wiping my nose, trying to ignore the burning pain that I could feel throughout my whole body.

“But Dad says that I'm beautiful...” I began.

He cut me off abruptly with a bitter laugh. “Your Dad doesn't know shit. You're not wanted you never were. No boy will ever look twice at you. You're an ugly whore and that's all you'll ever be Liana.”

Liana. He'd said my name and I hated him for it. I hated the fact that my name was coming out of his poisonous lips.

“Now, go to bed.”

Somehow, though I could barely move as it was, I managed to stand up and shakily walk out of the room, and run to my bedroom, sobbing on my pillow. Why? I loved my Dad.I really really did. Then anger set in. I knew why he had left. He had loved Mum once, but she had ditched him for cheating with this man.

That's why he had said I'm an ugly whore.
Because I'd grow up just like my mother.

I opened my eyes and felt tears form once more. I was twelve years old when Gary had first hit me. Every day he would hit me, hissing that I was ugly and worthless. Perhaps he was right. Ever since that day, I covered myself up. I started wearing makeup early so I could cover up the bruises that I suffered as a result of his beating. It didn't make any difference at college. As I rarely spoke in class, I was either made fun out of or ignored.

I took out my key and turned it in the lock. Click.

Come on now, lets get this over with....