I woke to the purring of my cat that was lying next to me in bed. I leaned over and looked at the clock. 7.30. I gently sat up trying not to catch the bruises all over my body. My joints ached, well my whole body ached. I walked over to my mirror to look at my face. He was smart, I’ll give him that. He wouldn’t hit my face; he didn’t want anyone to know. I couldn’t stand how my life was at the moment. I was a disappointment to my parents, my brothers, but most of all; I was a disappointment to myself. I let him hit me over and over and over, again and again and again. I pulled my long blonde hair into a pony tail and looked for some nice long sleeve shirts I could wear. Winter. My favorite season. You can wear a long sleeve shirt and no one will ask why or thing something is wrong. I just can’t think of what my family would say if they knew what Owen was doing to me. I’m a marine brat who can’t even act like one. “Ryan? Are you up sweetheart?” I heard my mom say knocking on my door. I quickly pulled on a shirt and pulled on a hoodie. I pulled on a clean pair of jeans.
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