Status: Completed!
Thunder
Prologue
Abigail Speed knew this position all too well. It had become like a second nature to end up in this spot every time her father had called her fat.
“You’re just a fucking fat whore,” her father’s voice echoed with the all too familiar words throughout her mind, just before slamming her entire body into the wall, proceeding to kick her the moment she fell to the ground.
She’d prove him wrong. She was going to be the daughter he wanted. Abigail was determined to be the perfect daughter, and if she wasn’t, she deserved all of the abuse and cruel words she received from him.
The seventeen year old’s knees slammed to the tile floor in the upstairs bathroom, as she welcomed the porcelain toilet bowl to her eyes again.
Sticking a finger down her throat, all of the food she eaten that day, which was very little as it was, came spewing up, filling her with relief. She had made it just in time before the food had begun digesting.
She kept going with the process until it was just dry heaves and tears. There were always tears, no matter what. The frail brunette didn’t know why she cried. She was getting skinnier, right? That was what mattered.
Abigail stood up as she realized nothing else was coming up and brushed her teeth just before she stepped on the scale.
104 pounds of pure fat, the voice in her head echoed. The girl had tried to stop the taunting voice many times before, but it was no luck. It was there right there the moment she stepped on the scale and every single time she ate.
She knew what her goal weight was. Ninety pounds was what she was aiming for. If she could make less, she’d be even happier. Deep down, though, Abigail knew her father wouldn’t be truly happy with her until the scale read 0.
Feeling even more helpless after stepping off the scale, Abigail stood in front the mirror, lifting her white, long-sleeved shirt.
She stared at the bruises on her ribcage, which were now purpling. Why couldn’t she just be perfect? She thought. She just wanted to make her father proud of her. Abigail stopped herself; she could see why he wasn’t proud. Who would be?
Abigail knew yet another familiar way to release the pain she felt inside. She slung open the drawers on the bathroom counter until she found what she was looking for – a shiny, new, silver blade.
The blade and she had been meeting other up every so often whenever the throwing up wasn’t enough, which it usually never was.
Abigail pulled her left sleeve up, revealing fresh cuts and scars. The scars, she thought, only made her even uglier.
She ignored all of those thoughts, running the silver blade across her skin multiple times. She didn’t care if the scars made her uglier. Each one only made her closer to her goal.
Dead.
“You’re just a fucking fat whore,” her father’s voice echoed with the all too familiar words throughout her mind, just before slamming her entire body into the wall, proceeding to kick her the moment she fell to the ground.
She’d prove him wrong. She was going to be the daughter he wanted. Abigail was determined to be the perfect daughter, and if she wasn’t, she deserved all of the abuse and cruel words she received from him.
The seventeen year old’s knees slammed to the tile floor in the upstairs bathroom, as she welcomed the porcelain toilet bowl to her eyes again.
Sticking a finger down her throat, all of the food she eaten that day, which was very little as it was, came spewing up, filling her with relief. She had made it just in time before the food had begun digesting.
She kept going with the process until it was just dry heaves and tears. There were always tears, no matter what. The frail brunette didn’t know why she cried. She was getting skinnier, right? That was what mattered.
Abigail stood up as she realized nothing else was coming up and brushed her teeth just before she stepped on the scale.
104 pounds of pure fat, the voice in her head echoed. The girl had tried to stop the taunting voice many times before, but it was no luck. It was there right there the moment she stepped on the scale and every single time she ate.
She knew what her goal weight was. Ninety pounds was what she was aiming for. If she could make less, she’d be even happier. Deep down, though, Abigail knew her father wouldn’t be truly happy with her until the scale read 0.
Feeling even more helpless after stepping off the scale, Abigail stood in front the mirror, lifting her white, long-sleeved shirt.
She stared at the bruises on her ribcage, which were now purpling. Why couldn’t she just be perfect? She thought. She just wanted to make her father proud of her. Abigail stopped herself; she could see why he wasn’t proud. Who would be?
Abigail knew yet another familiar way to release the pain she felt inside. She slung open the drawers on the bathroom counter until she found what she was looking for – a shiny, new, silver blade.
The blade and she had been meeting other up every so often whenever the throwing up wasn’t enough, which it usually never was.
Abigail pulled her left sleeve up, revealing fresh cuts and scars. The scars, she thought, only made her even uglier.
She ignored all of those thoughts, running the silver blade across her skin multiple times. She didn’t care if the scars made her uglier. Each one only made her closer to her goal.
Dead.
♠ ♠ ♠
Leave your comments!Also, I originally posted this story on Tumblr, at thunder-atlfanfic, a few months back. I've recently decided to pick it back up. I hope you guys like it & please, please, please leave feedback. :)