Chapter 1
"Abby!!" My father's voice echoed through the house, breaking the silence for what felt like the millionth time within the past hour. I had already scrubbed every corner and surface, making the entire house sparkle. I couldn't imagine what else he could possibly want me to do now.
Once again, my father's urgent cry of "Abby!" pierces the air, causing me to cease my task and rise from the floor, which I had been diligently scrubbing for the third time today.
"I'm coming, Father," I say loudly, trying to make myself heard over the blaring TV. As I walk into the living room, he screams, "What took you so long?!" His words hit me like a physical force, causing me to instinctively take a step back.
“ I was scrubbing the floors as you said to, “ I say to him
"Wow, it shouldn't take so long to clean a floor!" he shouts as I try to step back. But he still grabs my arm tightly.
"Father, please release me," I begged, but it only seemed to make him even angrier.
"Shut up!" he yells, his eyes turning black and claws coming out. I let out a small squeak when I see him like this, but if I run, things will only get worse.
Just as he latched onto my hair I heard a random female voice in my head but it wasn’t loud enough for me to hear exactly what it said.
“ Run Abby, he is going to kill you, “ says the voice as my father kicks and punches me in the gut harder than the last couple of times but I know if I run I won't get very far.
He pauses just as I sense a rib cracking. Leaning over me, he murmurs, "If you don't want things to get worse next time, you'll clean faster."
I couldn't say anything to him, I was in too much pain. My father noticed, smirked, and left the room without helping me get comfortable. He just left me there, feeling cold and alone.
As I begin to awaken from my unconscious state, the shrill, piercing sound of the smoke detector jolts me into full awareness. I suddenly bolt upright from the cold, hard floor where I had been lying, and a sharp wave of pain shoots through my entire body, leaving me momentarily paralyzed.
I begin to feel my heart racing as wisps of smoke swirl and thicken, filling the room with an acrid scent. My eyes dart around the space, searching frantically for any sign of my father, but he is nowhere to be found.
As I began to regain feeling in my limbs, I mustered all my strength to propel myself toward the front door. To my surprise, I discovered that the door was unlocked, which filled me with a mixture of relief and apprehension.
As I step outside, the wail of sirens fills the air, and I can see the red and blue flashing lights of emergency vehicles converging on my home, which is engulfed in raging flames. The crackling of the fire and the distant shouts of the firefighters create a chaotic and terrifying scene.
As I staggered through the chaos, a figure that appeared to be a policeman suddenly sprinted in my direction. It was clear that he had spotted me amidst the ash, my body bearing evidence of bruises and cuts.
"Are you okay, miss?" says the policeman, his voice filled with concern as he gently tries to reach out to me. His sudden approach makes me instinctively flinch, and I find myself pulling back, trying to create some distance between us.
"Everything will be okay, I promise. I would never do anything to harm you," reassured the policeman, striving to demonstrate his benign intentions.
He makes another attempt to reach out, and I decide to allow him to take hold of my hand. He guides me over to a paramedic whom he had previously signaled over while he was attempting to console me.
"Can you please tell us your name, love?" asked the policeman, his voice trying to distract me from the paramedic who was focused on treating my cuts and applying ointment to some of the severe bruises. The ambulance's lights flashed against the night sky, casting an eerie glow on the scene as I struggled to respond amidst the chaos.
As I lay on the stretcher, I feel the cold metal of the buckles as the straps tighten around me, securing me in place. Despite the rush of adrenaline and fear, I manage to muster the words, "My name is Abby." To my surprise, I notice the policeman climbing into the ambulance, his uniform stark against the sterile white interior, and taking a seat beside me, his presence both reassuring and unsettling.
As we made our way to the hospital, the gentle hum of the car and the soft glow of the streetlights outside created a tranquil atmosphere. The rhythmic sound of the engine seemed to lull me into a state of calm, and before I knew it, I was drifting off into a peaceful and restful sleep.
