Human Punching Bag..

“Get your ass over here!” I heard while running as fast as I could. I was terrible at running long distances. I was a sprinter, not a runner. I can sprint as if my life depended on it, but it will only last for about a minute or two, enough for the adrenaline to kick in. When the adrenaline wore off, I would still be able to feel the rush. He wasn’t a runner at all, he was a smoker, therefore, he can never outrun me. Unfortunately for me, I tripped over a pothole in the middle of the street, causing me to fall over, injuring my knee. I was so scared that I couldn’t feel any pain. I tried to get up and run again, but then I began feeling a sharp pain that caused my knee to buckle. I looked down and blood was spewing everywhere.

bwzombieFuck. Looking up, I saw him approaching. I started wobbling, gathering all my strength to push my injured leg forward. He was catching up to me. I was so scared that there was nothing that could hold me back from teetering as fast as I could. I knew he was going to catch me at the rate I was going. He finally did. He grabbed a fistful of my ponytail and swung me to the side of the street onto the grass. It felt like he was going to rip my scalp off. I shrieked as loud as I could before my face hit the ground with a mouth full of dirt. The sandy, black-brown dirt tasted like chalk mixed with shit. I tried to spit it out, but the more I opened my mouth, the more the dirt invaded my mouth.

“You Bitch! Where do you think you’re going, huh?”

He grabbed my ponytail and pulled it back, extending my neck upwards. It really felt like he was de-skinning my scalp. It burned like hell. Tears were running down my face, making the dirt in my mouth salty. I tried swinging wherever which way I could, flailing around like a fish on land.

“Stop it! Let me go! Please! I won’t run away, I promise!”

“Shut up. When we get home, you’re gonna get it. That will teach you to try to run away again, you slut.”

“No, please, no! I swear I won’t do it again!”

Right when he let go of my ponytail, my face slammed right back into the dirt. Even though the dirt tasted like shit, my head was thankful for the relief of pressure.

“Get up. Get up right now.”

I spit out whatever dirt I could from my mouth and tried to stand up. I picked myself up enough that I was hunched over holding onto my knee. He saw the blood dripping from my knee. When he began smirking, goosebumps formed over my entire body. I anticipated what he was going to do next, which he did, kicking me right on the kneecap. I couldn’t handle the pain, I fell backwards onto my ass, feeling the entire length of the leg go numb. I wanted to die. This beating, this torture, it was worse than a single bullet to the head. Better yet, I should have made a noose and hang myself when I had the opportunity. Instead, I ran, but at 3 a.m., there was no way anyone could see me.

“Try to run away now, bitch. Haha. Time to go home, Evee.”

I knew if I didn’t comply it was going to get even uglier. I used whatever strength I had left to push myself up. The piercing pain in my knee produced even more tears. What do I do now? I can’t outrun him now. If I scream for help, he would beat the crap out of me. I don’t want to go home, there’s no telling what he might do to me. I slowly began limping step-by-step towards the house with him trailing right behind me.

“Hurry the fuck up.”

“I’m trying! I’m injured, can’t you see? It hurts like hell, so stop rushing me.”

With his fist, he jabbed the back of my head. I fell over yet again, this time I fell flat onto my stomach and hands gripping onto the sidewalk concrete. He stepped on my back and I fell to the ground. He proceeded to stomp the back of my head onto the concrete. I could feel the skin on the side of my face get raw with cuts and the the little pebbles were scraping the layers of it off. I fucking hate this bastard, he deserves to die a million deaths, even the devil would probably reject him from hell because of how evil he is. He pulled my ponytail again, trying to get me to stand up again. I slowly got up. The glare in his eyes, I cannot forget how black his iris was, his pupils were constricted, he was ready to murder me.

“Bitch, get the fuck up. I should be at the strip club right now. Because of you, I’m fuckin’ late. Hurry up. I need to go.” He pulled my hair and I had no choice but to follow his jerking towards the house. My plan to run had failed. How the hell? No one was home.

“I bet you didn’t think I would catch you, huh?” Yanks hard. “You think you’re so slick.” Yanks even harder. “You think you can outsmart me, huh?” Yanks so hard I feel some of my hair separating from my scalp.

At this point, I was sobbing, not from his heinous beatings, but from the yanking of my head. The pain on my face and extremities were small compared to my about to be de-scalped head. We reached the front of the house, the front door was still open from where I left it while I sprinted out. Breathing heavily, I braced myself preparing for whatever he was about to do to me. bwbelt

“Get in here, you fuckin’ bitch!” As he was letting go of my ponytail with so much force, it sent me diving headfirst onto the wooden floors. I learned to keep my mouth shut during the beatings because the more I screamed or shouted in agony, the more it antagonized him. He loved it when I would scream, so he would beat me until I was unconscious and wait until I wake up to beat me again. I was his human punching bag.

“Why don’t you scream, huh? Are you scared, now? Trying to act tough, huh?” I heard some clinking, sounding like a buckle of a belt. Oh my God. Please, no. Once he uses the belt, he won’t stop until his arms got sore. Please, no. God, please save me, please. I need you more than ever right now. Please come save me. Help me, PLEASE! 

I was right.

The slashing of the leather on my back through my thin shirt stung so much. I was still on my stomach, with all my weight on the knees and elbows. WHIP. I could tell he swung with so much force that I heard him panting after each whip. The piercing pain sent me so low onto the floor that my excoriated cheeks were pressed so firmly onto the wood that it probably left imprints of the streaks of wood on my face. WHIP. I’m biting back my screams, trying to hang on for dear life, using all my strength to tense up so it wouldn’t hurt as much, but that didn’t help the pain at all. WHIP. I felt wetness all over, Why am I sweating? If I sweat, he would get even angrier because the floor would get slippery. Wait, it wasn’t sweat. I could smell the metallic scent of iron. It was my own blood beginning to soak my shirt.

WHIP. At the moment in time, the pain was so unbearable that I remembered one thing that saved me from feeling more of his torture..



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