The Angelic Misdemeanor (A Bloodrose Sequel ~ Book

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π™²πš‘πšŠπš™πšπšŽπš› 3 ~ πšƒπš‘πšŽ π™±πš’πš›πšπš‘ π™Ύπš π™°πš•πš•

Ivy's POV

On all fours, I rose my head and stared up at him before he kicked me in the stomach. I fell sideways, on my back, and grunted to the stinging sensation lingering around my intestines. It felt as if he was wearing metal boots when he had kicked me. I rolled around like an injured puppy and yelped at the torturous sensation.

He did these beatings regularly but my body never hardened to his hellish strikes and I knew that no matter what I do or say I'll end up getting attacked, anyway. He stared down at me with pity before spitting into my face. I flinched but didn't even care to wipe it away. The pain could never be compared to his pungent saliva.

"I'm...sorry, dad. Urgh!" I tried to sit up, my hand holding onto my stomach as if it were going to explode if I didn't hold it together, "I'm s-so, so s-sorry. I didn't me-" but before I could finish my apology he kicked me right beneath the chin to which I flew back to the hardwood floor.

A loud thump sounded in the room as my stomach no longer drew my attention. I winced as I felt the area begin to throb. My eyesight blurred with the backlash, my skull potentially shattered my impact; my heart palpitated in my chest as if my rib cage couldn't contain it and my brain sewed monstrous thoughts in my head of potential attacks against him to which I drew a sword -- slicing it up. I was not going to hurt him. I swear on my mother's grave!

He charged up to me like a bull before raising his right boot to send it flying directly into my stomach, I dodged the blow by rolling away but I didn't have the time to get up for he already met my speed, suddenly I felt signals waft through my body to my nervous system as he clubbed his boot at the side of my back.

Instead of using my energy supply wisely, I panicked and spun around and placed my hand hesitantly on my back as this was yet the hardest blow. Tears began trickling onto the floor as my heart sunk deep into the pit of my stomach. I screamed, whipping all oxygen from my body in a whoosh! I sobbed on the floor as my breathing hitched to the feeling of agony, rushing limitlessly through my arteries.

He made his way around me. When he reached before me he yelled, "I hate you!" I paused, my head slowly made its way to stare at him.

"Why?" I lamented as I held onto my stomach, closing my eyes to sob now and then, "why? Why?" My voice, getting softer in desperation.

"Because you disgust me," he replied, he said through his teeth, his fists balled at his sides. "Because you killed her!" He suddenly yelled, taking a couple of sharp breaths before kicking me in the stomach. I felt his boot dig deeper in my stomach as he ranted to himself.

I knew it would do me no good to scream but I couldn't control it. I held onto my stomach trying to protect it, but he just continued to kick me with his leather boots and my hands were nothing but a leaf in the wind, a shack in a tsunami. It felt as if he'd crack through the barrier that I tried to make with my hands. I still felt the impact of the kicks.

He then went down on his knees and held onto the neck of my black sweater with a folded fist. I held my trembled fingers to protect my face, but he just contented around my hands as he plummeted his knuckles into my face. No part was left untouched.

His head was just so flustered with rage and pain that I couldn't even force myself to blame him but the pain was becoming worse. I couldn't bare the pain anymore. Everything was just going so fast yet, slow. It was like the closer he's come to my face everything speeds up then slows back down as he pulls away to prepare for his next blow.

I couldn't hit him. It'll either fuel his anger or hurt him. I didn't like my chances, so I tried to push him off -- telling him it was enough. Well, my mouth opened, I'm not sure if any sound came out.

Tears filling rivers from his eyes and plopping onto my bloody face, blending into each other as we fought. He didn't stop, he just punched me until I felt my consciousness slowly slip through my fingers as it brushed through my hair.

Was I going to die? Die by the hands of my father? No... He would never be able to forgive himself and who'll be here for him.

My arms began to lose their power, deteriorating by the second, shaking more than they regularly did. I whimpered and sobbed until I felt all the moisture soak into the nearby carpet. I sniffled and cried and bawled as he beat me.

After leaving blemishes of his depression on my skin he stood up -- his left hand held tightly around my neck. His middle finger and thumb dug deep into the sides of my neck. Cutting my breathing off in an instant. I saw a devil's mask plastered tightly against his face as I stared into his black eyes, gasping for any amount of breath that I could get. That could never be my father. A once hard-working and contented man. This was a demon. A demon of grief possessed his soul and there was nothing that I could do to save him.

I used my hands to try to get his fingers that clutched so tightly, off of my neck, but he just used his right hand to assist the other, putting me in a helpless position. Soon I began to feel dizzy and lightheaded, more than I already did. My lungs were like deflated balloons as I felt my nerves tingle through my veins.

Panic stuck, leaving me in a mode that I would do anything to fight for survival. He clenched his jaws and threw me against the nearby wall. My back was slammed into it, feeling as if my spine snapped on impact. I panted in relief for my life as I laid my head on the wall. I knew he didn't want to kill me.

Sweat burst from my skin and glided steadily down my cheeks and neck, soaking into my sweater. I stared down at it as it soaked in and vanished.

All this pain would be over. It'll soon vanish. My scars would heal and so would my dad. I told myself. I'm not an optimist if that's what you think I am. Ivy was so just naive. A naive little whore who is so thick-headed that I still believe that this would all go away in a matter of time.

Have you ever heard the saying 'Time heals'? Well, that's bullshit! Time just makes it worse. The more time I spend thinking about everything and even when I try not to it's no use because... I only dig myself deeper into guilt. Time erases nothing. It gains. It expands. Time is a selfish son of a bitch.

And though the physical pain was horrible it was nothing compared to the digesting hole in my heart. The pain that may never be able to be restored. The pain that shattered and digested my weak and helpless heart. My pain that I'll never get rid of. That pain was the thing that ate me alive. Not the bruises. The bruises and blisters would probably heal and maybe leave a scar but my heart would never be able to.

I was back where the day had started, near the couch. I dropped my head down in exhaustion and noticed a glass bottle to the left. Clutched onto the nape of it, in case. He then walked up to me and knelt. He threw his both hands against the hardwood floors and hung his head low -- low enough for me to see down his back.

I wanted to stroke his soft, brown, messy hair. I wanted to hold him tightly and grieve together. To just say 'dad. It's going to be alright. Yes, we've lost mom, and we'll never be able to replace that love but...we have each other. Let's be there for each other.' Or just a simple 'I love you, dad. I love you so much.' That'll never happen. Not in my world.

I heard him as he sniffled and mourned at the loss of his lovely wife.

"Why didn't... they take you? T-take you instead?" He then rose his head and stared at me, but his eyes were still pure black. My fingers lingered and cradled the bottle into my fingers. Oh. How much I hated to do this. "I hope you rot in hell you...fucking whore!" He then raised his right hand to slap me but before he could I plunged the bottle forward -- breaking it on his head.

He fell unconscious to my lap. Face down. My eyes grew round in panic as I quickly placed two of my fingers on his neck to feel his pulse and sighed in relief to feel it pumping effectively.

I brushed the glass pieces out of his hair then inspected the bruise. I knew he'd be fine, but I'm never doing that again.

"Sorry, daddy." Tears flowed onto his hair, making his hair stick together as I stroked it. I then wiped my face and got into action before he bled out.

I think it's pretty obvious that I don't pay attention to Biology classes, maybe I should or I would deliberately understand how much one human can endure. Studying the human body is Biology right? Or is it forensic science? I mean, it definitely isn't Physics or Chemistry?

I hauled his body as gently as possible to a three-person couch and ran upstairs, into my room for a blanket and a pillow. Then, came running back downstairs almost plummeting to my death, then I adjusted his head on top of my pillow so that he would be comfortable, not even caring about my wounds and I drew my self-knitted blanket over his torso, tucking him in.

I googled how to properly care for a glass bottle to the head and followed the instructions suggested. Well first I researched how to care for someone with a partially severed head but maybe I was being a bit too dramatic.

After I cared for him, I knelt down and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead then whispered, "I'm so sorry, dad. I hope you're okay. I'll take care of you okay?"

I got up and began to clean the house. Discarding all the empty bottles and the shards of glass. I wiped all the blood from the floors and fixed everything the way it was before, for when he woke up.

Though he was the one who gave in to his addiction it wasn't his fault for the way he acted. He never remembers what happens and I never tell him, so he doesn't know. I don't care how much he'll hurt me. Once he could wake up and everything could go back to normal it'll be worth it.

I ran upstairs to tend to my wounds because I was bleeding all over the floors which were very inconvenient and I needed to go to a store. I heard a new one opened not too far away from my home. I'd just go there and get something to take care of my father because I know when he wakes up he'll get a headache.

I went into the bathroom and saw myself in the reflection. I almost didn't recognize my face. Not only were the wounds foreign but also my face. My face looked worn out, like an old man who lived for cigarettes and used his dead wife's ashes as eye shadow. Wrong choice of words. You know, since my mother got into an accident and fried to dust -- like ashes and my father's a smoker? Yes, I should definitely stop.

Dark circles around my eyes formed naturally, dragging bags along with them. My eyes were red with tears and I had red hand marks around my neck. I stroked them as memories of the previous events circle around my mind creating a whirlpool of guilt.

I leaned over and turned on the faucet, gathering water in the palm of both my hands and splashing it on my face. Oh! How it stung like a bitch. It felt like I rubbed shards of glass on my face then ripped every piece out with duct tape. I screamed and groaned in affliction as I splashed some more on my face. I felt a shock wave of a sweltering heat vault through my body. I clung to the counter top for support as I struggled to cool myself down. I took deep breaths and closed my eyes in a failed attempt to cool my body.

Eventually, the pain decreased along with the feeling of mobility. I wanted to lay in bed to rest my head but I needed proper bandages. I walked back into the living room and snatched my keys from the couch then I left.

I had to walk since I had no car or license. I hated to walk outside, I just anticipated people were going to stare. But I'd rather go outside than stay home all day.

"Oh my god. Did she get into a cat fight or something?"

"Why does a young girl like that already have so many tattoos?"

"She looks familiar, doesn't she?"

"She went to our school, dumb ass. Since her mom died she barely came back to school."

"Oh."

"I heard her dad is a drunkard! God, it must really suck to be her."

"I'm surprised a grunge-like girl like her isn't dead yet."

"It's like you're waiting for her to commit suicide, shit hole."

"Aren't we all? This town is really boring, you know."

"Dude, that was such a heartless thing to say."

"She's a nobody. At least she'll be worth some entertainment."

"Hahaha. Oh my God, why are you so rude, Jen?"

I just wanted to sink my fingers into their throats and rip out their vocal cords. Then throw them to the floor and make them watch me squish them with my shoes. But I fought the urges to attack since I had my mind set of caring for my injured father. The pain that I conflicted upon. Maybe I should have taken the slap. But maybe a single slap could've ended me. I mean I don't know how strong he was. Can you kill an injured person with a slap?

"Oh, hey Ivy." Said a calm voice, to which I ignored. "I haven't seen you in school, are you okay?" He came closer and saw my scars, "wow, you're bleeding. Let me help you." I walked straight past him, but he didn't let it go. "You do remember me right?"

"Yes, Isaac. I'm fine, leave me be."

He ran in front of me, cutting off my exit. A warm smile upturned on his face as he mumbled in the gentlest tone, "you remember me." I rose my eyebrows and forced a smile as a response before walking around him. He ran beside me and walked to the new store there with me.

"Do you not have anything better to do than walk with a freak?" I said with my arms crossed under my breasts.

"I don't think you're a freak. You're different, unlike everyone else here who are literal sheep." I didn't disagree with him at all. "Well, Tabitha's also different. God, she's beautiful."

I didn't say anything. I just continued to walk, and he followed, going on and on about the school's mean girl to whom he knew he'd never date. He was way out of her league, and she even had a boyfriend. The most cliched couple in school. Cheerleader captain and the popular jock.

"You know I work here, right?"

"Hmm."

"Yeah, they're actually looking for workers. Well, it's one woman. I'm actually the manager."

"The manager?" I questioned as I stopped, "Aren't you still in high school?"

"Yeah, weird right? The woman was pretty weird, actually, she literally held onto my face and was like 'I'm sorry. You remind me of someone.' Then she said I was hired. I didn't even say anything yet but I mean I was like 'sure. What will I be doing?' She said anything, so I said that I want to be the manager as a joke, and she agreed so now I'm a manager."

"That sounds horrible. For her."

He chuckled softly then threw both hands behind his head, holding it up with his fingers clasped together for support. God, he was effortlessly hot. How could no one else see that? I stared at him for a while as we made our way into the store. He opened the door for me then stuck his hands into his pockets.

"Boss!" He grinned as he saw a woman before him. "I found you a new worker. Her name is Ivy, and she's in desperate need of a job."

"Wait...what?" He threw an arm around my shoulders before ushering me toward the woman to greet her, "I didn't ask for a job-"

"Great. How good are you at cashing?" She asked as she reached in to shake my hand. She had such a strong grip on a tiny woman like herself. The woman towered over me and she was extremely. I was almost certain she was a model if she isn't still one.

"I mean, I can but-"

"Then you're hired. You can start whenever you like. But it would be best if you could come Saturday. That's when my other two workers are going to start anyway and Isaac." She smiled but it was directed to Isaac, who returned it awkwardly.

"Oh um... I don't think-"

"You don't need a job?" Asked Isaac as he removed his arm, taking his refreshing aroma along with him, his honeyed eyes stapling into my soul as he stared down at me.

"You know what? I do. But I need some things to tend to some wounds."

They both smiled. "I'd be right on it!" Smiled, my new boss, I suppose.

If only I had known about the upcoming events, I would have never taken this job in the first place. Because my life was about to take a turn for the worst in the most horrific way possible along with the rest of them.

οΏΌ

𝙸 πš‘πš˜πš™πšŽ 𝚒𝚘𝚞 πš‘πšŠπšŸπšŽ πšŽπš—πš“πš˜πš’πšŽπš πšπš‘πšžπšœ πšπšŠπš›!

πš‚πš˜πš–πšŽπšπš’πš–πšŽπšœ 𝙸 πš“πšžπšœπš πšπšŽπšŽπš• 𝚝𝚘 (ΰΈ‡'Μ€-'́)ΰΈ‡ π™ΈπšŸπš’'𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚍...πš‹πšžπš πšπš˜πš—'𝚝 πš πš˜πš›πš›πš’ πš’πš'πš•πš• πšŠπš•πš• πš–πšŠπš”πšŽ πšœπšŽπš—πšœπšŽ πš’πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πšŽπš—πš ;)

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