OKAY OKAY I KNOW I SAID NEXT CHAPPPY IS JALLY BUT I RE-FOUND AN OLD SONG I LOVED AND I HAD TO DO THIS! This will be another optional chapter. Just if you want to know what happened that night. This chapter was inspired by Concrete Angel by Martina McBride. I really recomend you hear that song. Please. My heart breaks whenever I hear that song.
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Amethyst's P.O.V-
I sat on the couch, looking at my hands. I don't know why. Just looking. I didn't know what to do. I had done this because I had secretly hoped that my father would be as excited to meet me as I was to meet him. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. I was in shock. Parent's don't hit their kids, right? Maybe I did something wrong. Maybe he's disapointed in me. Maybe I'm not worth his trouble.
I had to ask him. I stood up and silently headed downstairs, my bare feet making no sound as my night gown rustles around in the slight breeze. I climbed down the stairs and walked into his lair. "Oogie?" I called out softly. "Father?"
Suddenly I was knocked to the ground, my head ringing like a gong. Standing over me was Oogie. But he looked.... diffrent. He looked less steady on his feet and a bit more tipsy. Tispy........ Then I flicked through my memories. On the table, there had been a bottle of alcohal. Was he drunk?
"What are you doing down here?" He slurred. Definatly drunk. Loaded like a dish washer. I sat on my knees. "Im here to talk." I said to him. "I don't need to talk you you!" He hissed, grabbing me by the throat and raising me off the ground until I dangled from his grip. I started gagging. Suddenly air wasn't going down my throat and I felt light-headed as my brain became oxygen starved. He was choking me.
Suddenly I could breath. I gulped down great mouthfuls of air, feeling my body go back to normal. But before I could relax, he crushed me into the wall. I let out a high-pitched scream. of shock, fear and hurt. The spikes on the wal dug into my skin, bruising some places, cutting others and gashing my flesh in a few. In a few seconds vicusious blood ran down my arms and dripped off my fingers.
"Please!" I begged. "No more!" I started crying, water mixing with scarlet blood. "You stupid child. Can't take the pain?" He growled, grinding my body harder against the steel spiks. Now they were all horrible gashes, leaking blood like my eyes leaked tears. He ignored my request and slammed me into the ground so hard my head smashed agains tthe floor and hurt like I had been stabbed.
For the next.... Hour? Night? I don't know. He continued beating me, slapping, hitting, punching, kicking my bleeding, bruised body until I was surprised I hadn't bled out or died from trauma. Blow after bow after blow stuck me. Bruises bloomed over cuts and cuts tore open over bruises. I couldn't feel any of the pain. My whole body was numb. That was scarier than feeling any pain. I felt dead. If it wasn't for my hammering heart skipping and stumbling over beats like I was having a heart attack ringing in my ears I'd have believed I had died.
Then, it stopped. No more thudding sounds viberating off the walls, no more unintentional screams of pain punturing the now still air. It was silent. Bu then I had the oddest snesation. Like I was being lifted. It was no illusion. Oogie had lifted me above him, my head and limbs lolling uselessly over the edge of his grip.
Before I could gather my thoughts, he threw me. I flew through the air for a split second then struck the jagged, sharp edge of his rollette wheel. The pain was incredible. In a split second my lower back had been torn open and blood spewed onto the floor in thick red rivettes. I looked up to my father, wanting to know where he'd strikenext. But he was gone.
In pain, I managed to heal my more serious wounds. I left csome cuts and bruises to explain the soreness in the morning and to remind myself that he was not my father. A good parents don't hit their kids................do they?
