She's Not Bleeding on the Ballroom Floor Just for the Attention

I stayed in the car when my father pulled into our driveway and he got out of the car. He came around to the other side and opened my door. He grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the car, causing me to fall onto the ground.

"Get up," he growled. I stood up, shaking slightly. I had never been this afraid of my father before. "Get in the house."

He pushed me and I stumbled as I made my way to the house. I went inside, my father following a few feet behind me. When I got inside, my mother was nowhere to be seen. I knew she was either hiding in her room or she went somewhere. I went into the living room and I heard my father come into the house. I stayed standing and waited for him to find me. The living room was dark for a second before the light turned on. I turned around to face my father. The sooner this was over, the better. My father looked at me, the fury showed clearly in his eyes. He walked into the living room so that he was closer to me, practically in my face.

I held my breath in anticipation, knowing what was coming. I didn't dare close my eyes, knowing that would only make him more angry. I risked a glance at his right hand which was balled into a tight fist. I looked back at my father just as I saw him raise his fist and before I knew it, it made contact with the side of my face. I let out a gasp as I felt the stinging pain. I didn't have enough time to think about before I was hit again, just as hard. This time the force of his blow sent me to the floor. I could taste blood in my mouth and tears running down my face. I didn't make any noise though..I knew it was pointless. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach as my father foot made contact a few times. There was a low thud as my father dropped to his knees, throwing more punches at my face and my stomach. I was finding it hard to breathe and the room began to spin. I don't know how long my father was hitting me, but it finally stopped. My body ached and throbbed from the pain. I lay on the floor panting and crying. My father stood up. I didn't look at him. He gave me one last kick in the stomach.

"Now get out of my house," he said. "If you can't appreciate what you have, you can go without it."

He was kicking me out. Through my pain I felt happiness. I heard my father's footsteps retreat and when I knew he had left the living room, I carefully pulled myself off the living room floor, using the couch for support. I stumbled shakily to the entrance and then to the front door which I opened. I stepped outside, stumbling till I reached the tree in my yard. I leaned against it, feeling dizzy again, as well as nautious. I coughed a few times, tasting the blood in my mouth, before finally throwing up. When I was done, I wiped my mouth and stayed leaned against the tree, panting a little more heavier.

That's when I saw someone walking towards me. I recognized the person at once. I took a few steps toward the person, a smile breaking out on my face. I could see dark spots in my vision but I ignored it. Before I could take another step, I realized I was falling and before I had even hit the ground, I blacked out.