A Welcome Burden

b]8 Years Ago....

Why does he allow this to happen to me? Am I the abomination my father claims me to be? I must be...or there really isn't a God in this fucked up world. I sigh to myself as I put down my pencil. After a normal rough day at school, I come home to an even rougher atmosphere. Thankfully I don't have to work today but in reality I'd rather be stuck in my boring dead end job as a waitress in the town's diner than be here.

I put my head in my hands covering my face in frustration at my thoughts. Suddenly I felt the table underneath my elbows begin to rattle. I held it down keeping it from making too much noise but my pencil went flying across the room and clattered against the glass of my bedroom window. I've been experiencing that a lot lately. When it first started, I immediately began doing research to find out how it was happening then I found a news report telling about mutants. I guess I'm one of them. I tried keeping my mutation away from my father's sights but that didn't happen. Now he has some other reason for beating the hell out of me.

Yeah you heard correctly. My father beats the shit out of me ever since my mother died. He blames her death on me. There was nothing I could do. I mean she was overseas when it happened fighting the Iraqi War. How is it my fault? It wasn't long after her death that my dad started seeing this new woman. I didn't like her from the beginning and she changed him drastically. She's supposed to be a good upstanding Christian woman but she drinks hard liquor like it's going out of style. Now my father is the same way. He sees me when he's drunk and smacks me around. Usually it's not on my face but my stomach and ribs. Something I can easily hide but now I have a bruise forming on my right eye from yesterday's beating.

I felt the vibrations disappear and let out a breath I'd been holding. The wicked bitch of the West is downstairs and I don't want her hearing and telling my...well him. I looked down at my phone seeing it was time to get dinner on to cook. I got up from my seat in front of the desk and left my room. As I got down the stairs and was about to enter the kitchen, it spoke.

"It's about fucking time you came down from up there!"

"I had homework to do." I said timidly not looking at her.

"Just get your worthless ass in that kitchen and make some food! Do what you're supposed to do before I get the urge to tell your father." I rolled my eyes as I entered into the kitchen and began making dinner.

My job in this house is to do the cooking, cleaning, laundry, get their beers, and pay the bills. So basically I do it all plus go to work and do my schooling. Every night I have to do dinner and make sure it's done when he gets home. If it's not done or he has to wait 5 minutes...I'm in deep shit. I never get to just sit down and relax or do my own thing. I finished putting the food on the table as I heard dad's truck shut off outside. When the door opened the familiar squeak from the wicked bitch filled my ears.

"Oh honey you're home!" She said before the nasty sounds of them almost fucking in the doorway was heard. It took all I had not to gag as I washed the dishes.

"Well well you finally got my dinner on the table before I got here. You're missing one thing though." I ignored his comment. His heavy bootsteps clamped down on the floor before I felt a harsh tug to my hair.

"You better fucking answer me when I speak to you!" He said taking his other hand and grasping my throat while synching harder on my hair. I whimpered in pain and looked up into my father's eyes.

"W...what did I forget sir?" I asked stammering my words.

"Beer you little bitch! Now get it!" He threw me towards the fridge and I quickly grabbed the alcoholic beverage and popped off the top setting it down on the table.

"That's better. Now clean up this fucking pigsty you made!" He yelled before eating on the dinner I had made. I focused my eyes back on the dirty dishes in the soapy water. The wicked bitch of the West came into the kitchen and sat down. I got her food as well as a beer for her before going back to the dishes.

"Did you tell her yet honey?" She asked my dad with a smile on her face.

"Almost forgot. Cheyenne once you've cleaned up your mess, you go upstairs and pack your bags. Someone is coming over here in a few minutes to take you off our hands." I spun around quickly.

"Wha..what do y..you mean?"

"God you're so stupid. A man is coming to take you so we don't have to deal with your mutant ass. You're an abomination before the Lord and need to be cleansed." I didn't know what to say..I mean I was jumping on the inside about leaving this hellhole but...but what if I'm thrown into something more dangerous?

Once they finished eating and I got them some more beer, they went into the living room. I finished the dishes and headed out of the kitchen. As I passed by the living room, my abusers were again almost fucking each other on the couch. I quickly went up the stairs and began packing what clothing I had and shoving what money I had accumulated from my job and stealing out of their wallets. I had to take money from them so I could pay bills. My tiny little check wasn't cutting it and I know what happened the last time I let the power get shut off...

From upstairs in my room I could hear the doorbell ring before my father's voice turned from a hatred filled tone to a gentler and more kinder sounding tone as he answered the door.

"Cheyenne sweety? Can you come down here please?" The bitches voice said sweetly. To me it sounded like sugar coated venom. I left my packed bag on my bed as I left my room and went back down to the living room.

"Honey this is the man we told you about. He's gonna cure you of your sickness." My father said smiling nicely. I looked at the well dressed man before looking towards the other men in the room. They were slightly taller than the well dressed one.

"Well don't be rude. At least say hello to them." The wicked bitch of the West said glaring at me with hate filled daggers.

"Hi." My eyes were plastered to the floor as I gave a small wave.

"Hello Cheyenne. Don't you worry about a thing. We'll take good care of you where we are going." I nodded still not making eye contact with the man.

"Go upstairs and get her bags." The man said to the it on his right. He brushed passed me and went upstairs. I felt hands on my shoulders and I looked up to see my father.

"You be good for Mr. Stryker." He said before hugging me. I didn't hug him back which made his nails dig into my flesh. My arms went up around him at the pain of him hitting a fresh bruise. The man getting my bags came back downstairs and I was less away. When we got into the car I felt a pick to my neck. My vision blurred and I was out.

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