Free The Divide (The Divide Series Book 1) by Kaitlyn Kroner Page B

didn’t slow me down, though. My hands shot out to help slow the momentum, but I twisted and they slipped, causing me to face plant onto the floor.
    “How dare you do this to me,” my father yelled as he kicked me in my stomach. I cried out as his foot hit my ribs, hearing a deafening crack. “My own daughter sneaking out.” He grabbed my hair and pulled me up, slapped me hard across the face with a closed hand, the sting spreading through my cheek, and sent me into the hallway table. The table and I both landed hard onto the ground. My face stung, and I was doing all I could to not let the tears fall in front of him. It would be that much worse if they did. “You make me sick,” he seethed in my face. Standing back up, he kicked me one last time in the gut before walking away.
    I wheezed. I couldn’t breathe. I tried sucking in air, but sharp pains shot up my abdomen and chest. After what felt like hours, I slowly got myself into a sitting position. I was finally able to take a few more breaths while I tried to ignore the pain. A gentle, familiar hand softly took my arm. I looked up into Agathy’s soft blue eyes. I tried to smile but failed. She helped me up off the floor. “It'll be okay.” Looking down at the table, I started to bend down to pick it up, but Agathy stopped me. “Let me get it. You just go upstairs, take a hot shower, and go to bed.” I nodded my head and gave her a small, appreciative smile.
    I kept one hand on my ribs and the other on the wall as I walked up the stairs. Every time I moved, it felt like I was being stabbed over and over again in my stomach. As I reached the top of the stairs, my mother stood in her doorway with a drink in her hand. “You are such a stupid little girl.” With that, she turned around and headed back into her bedroom. I slowly walked to my room and shut the door behind me. As I crawled into bed, I covered my whole body with the comforter and let the tears fall. I cried myself to sleep.

Light shined brightly as I woke with puffy and swollen eyes; my abdomen screamed at me as I sat slowly up in bed. I tried taking a deep breath, but my ribs cried out in protest, causing me to yelp; I wasn’t sure if one or more of my ribs were broken or if they were just badly bruised. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I slowly made my way off the bed; pain zipped through my body. My feet hit the soft fabric of the carpet and my eyes slowly opened. I pushed myself gently off the bed and headed toward the bathroom. Since my bedroom was still semi-dark, I had to place my hand on the wall and let it guide me. My hand curled around the handle of the door and I opened it and massaged the wall until my fingers hit the light switch. As the lights blared on, I pressed my eyes closed. One at a time, I slowly opened each eye, squinting into the brightness. 
    When the light spots danced out of my eyes, I took in my appearance. My hair was a mess, sticking out in every which way. A large bruise covered my right cheekbone, with a thin cut playing peek-a-boo through the storm-blue color. My fingers gently skimmed over the bruise. Flinching back, I lowered my hand. I tried to smile, but the pain from the bruise brought my lips into a grimace. Even glaring at myself caused me to cringe in pain. 
    Slowly, I grabbed the end of my shirt and tugged it up and over my head. I gasped as I took in the picture of my body—I knew it would look bad, but not this bad. A large black and blue bruise covered my left side, and another bruise covered my lower stomach on my right side. I couldn’t tell if they were all from my father or if I had gotten some of the bruises in the bar last night. Slowly, my fingertips trailed down my left side, sucking in a breath and doing the same on my right. Dropping my pants, I examined my legs—only a few sparse bruises, nothing major. I went over to the shower and turned on the water, then walked back over to the mirror and just stared at myself until my face disappeared