THIRD PERSON POV ~_______~_______~
BEEEP! BEEP!
Verity Johnson wakes up to her alarm. She smacks it and groans, rolling out of bed. Today was Wednesday, and she had to go to school — the worst place to ever exist if we're being honest here.
She got up and showered, using her vanilla - scented shampoo & conditioner. If there was a perfume she owned that smelt like that, she would use it Every. Single. Day.
Once she got out, she looked at her body in the mirror. There was bruises everywhere — her body looked black and blue. There was plenty of scars all over. It was a horrible sight. There was a scar across her lower stomach, long and thick, and very visible through the bruises. They were all caused by her adoptive father — John Johnson.
I know right. Who names their child that?
He was an alcoholic asshole. He abused Verity thirteen years. Verity didn't even know why he adopted her in the first place — he went on everyday about not wanting her, about hating her and wishing she never existed. They were fairly poor, too, so there was never reason for him to have adopted her.
It never made any sense.
Verity sighed as she grabbed an oversized grey hoodie and pulled it over her head, wearing some black leggings with it. She looked at her neck and face, which had bruises from last night.
Flashback starts: "You're nothing but a worthless whore!" John yelled, slamming the door behind him as he entered her room. He reeked of alcohol, and the empty bottle in his hand proved why. Verity was sitting on her bed when she got dragged off by John. He grabbed her by the neck and threw her against the wall, hitting her repeatedly. She showed no emotion to it except for shutting her eyes tightly — she didn't beg him to stop. She didn't do anything. She just held her breath and didn't make a noise. That upset him so much so that he grabbed her by the throat. He grasped his hands around her neck, squeezing it. She finally let out a gulp of air, her throat begging for oxygen. She let out a scream of agony, as much as she could scream, anyway, and he finally let go, grinning. He knew he broke her. He knew how broken she already was. He was happy. Verity stayed sprawled on the floor until she finally got her body moving to her bed, and let sleep take over her mind. Flashback over.
Verity sighed as the memories from last night replayed in her head. She covered the bruises with concealer, and headed downstairs slowly after grabbing her bag. She quietly opened the door and walked out, trying not to make a sound and wake John up, who was sleeping on the couch, bottle in hand.
__________________________________ Word count: 507
*EDITED This was a pretty short chapter, I just wanted you guys to have a little insight before we really get into the story.
Please vote lovelies, hope you liked it!