Chapter 3


    Chapter 3


    Winter’s POV


    I force myself to wake up early the next morning, in order to get ready for school. I’m so tired I can


    barely see straight and it’s all I can do to make myself get in the shower and get dressed. Damien


    came hometest night and insisted on me doing his schoolwork and when I didn’t move fast enough


    for his liking he punched me in the stomach, not to mention threw his damn school bag at me. It was an


    extremely long night, spent doing my homework on top of his as well. God I hate him.


    I couldn’t help myself, stopping to turn and look into the battered mirror atop my shabby dresser. I’m not


    surprised by therge dark circles under my eyes or the thinness of my figure. I hate the way I look and


    I know that I’m ugly. My face is pale, so white rather than porcin, my eyes a dull blue and my hair a


    frizzy blonde that’s long andnky. No matter how much I washed my hair, it never seemed to make a


    difference. My clothes are ripped, hand me downs from op shops, jeans with holes in the knees and a


    sweater twice the size of me that hangs down way past my knees. I didn’t really have anything better to


    wear and I put my threadbare sneakers on with a grimace. The bottom of them are thin from over-use


    and I know that one day soon I’m going to have to go and look around the thrift shops and find a new


    pair to use.


    I have barely got the bacon in the pan sizzling and pancakes going, when my father staggers in,


    looking pale and exhausted, his eyes red and puffed up as he sits there, impatiently waiting for his


    food. He looks a mess and I hope he cleans himself up before going to work, because at this rate he’ll


    lose his job. Not that that seems to bother him though.


    “Here’s your coffee” I say very quietly, cing it beside his elbow and vehemently hoping he would just


    drink it this time instead of flinging it away. Apparently, he was too tired to do that this time and he


    drank it down without a qualm orint. Damien also staggered in and sat down at the table,


    ring at me while he waited, drumming his fingers on the table as I hurried as best I could. Just once,


    I wish they would get off theirzy backsides and give me a damn hand. It wouldn’t exactly kill them to


    help, would it? Besides, he is old enough to make his own breakfast for heaven’s sake. I don’t dare tell


    him that though, I’m not exactly in the mood for another bruise.


    “Here” I tell them softly, cing theirrge tes in front of them and going back to the bench where


    my one measly piece of bacon and a slice of toast waits.It’s not even enough to touch the sides of my


    hunger, but I don’t dare take any more in case they see me. I stop short when Damien gets up from the


    table andes over, eyeing me maliciously. He’s up to something, I just know it and I feel a sense of


    dread rising inside of me. I try to keep my expression nk so he doesn’t see or sense my fear of him.


    “What do you think you’re doing” he says, and I eye him curiously, my heart already beginning to thump


    wildly in my chest, anticipating what’s about to happen as I hold my breath.


    “Eating breakfast”, I say nervously, and before I can stop him, his hand shoots out and sends the te


    flying to the floor as I stare at him and the broken te in dismay. What the hell?


    “Oops” he says slyly “guess you’re going without fatty again”, he tosses out as he sits and begins to


    devour his own delicious breakfast. I said nothing. I’m not fat, in fact, I’m anything but, considering I


    very rarely get to it. But , after all, what would be the point? Damien can do whatever he likes to me


    and my father will never once step in and stop him, not when he approves of what my brother does to


    me. I keep my tears to myself, my stomach growling with hunger.


    Original content from N?velDrama.Org.


    I take a deep shuddering breath and bend down to pick up the pieces of the broken te. I salivate at


    the sight of the bacon and toast on the floor but they are covered in dirt and would be disgusting to eat.


    I force myself to throw them in the bin.


    A sharp piece of shard slices my finger and I watch the blood drip down in fascination. It doesn’t even


    hurt, nothing does anymore, and I clean it on my sweater as I pick the shards up, sadly knowing that


    this was to be my only food until dinnertime and that I would be starving hungry again today. Dad and


    Damien don’t care, hurrying out of the dining room when they’re finished and leaving me to clean up


    before I can grab my own school bag and walk to school.


    Damien’s already left in his car, for which I’m extremely grateful, as I don’t have to worry about what


    else he might do to me next, and so has my father, who never even says a word to me, not that I


    expect him to anymore. This leaves me to take my time, wanting to prolong the experience for as long


    as possible. School which used to be a sanctuary when I was smaller has now be my own hell, a


    ce for bullies and my brother to torment and make fun of me, and I know exactly what I’m facing, my


    whole body trembling in fear as I began to traverse through the corridors and make it to ss, with the


    hopeful thought that maybe today would be different and that I would be left alone for once. It was a


    futile hope.