Olivia's Pov

I was walking on a deserted road. It was all dark around me. There were gentle strokes of a breeze floating in the surroundings, hitting my face. The silence had spread throughout the area. I can hear the sound of my footsteps as well as the sound of moving wind. I can also hear the quintessential sound of a cricket.

It had been 10 minutes when I heard the sound of another footstep. I stopped walking and I turned back to see who it was, but as I turned, no one was there.

Again, I started walking and again the sound of footsteps started coming. I held back my breath and turned back again, but no one was there. Chills ran through my body. I was so scared and started moving fast when I saw from the side of my eyes that there was someone's shadow.

I started pacing fast, and the one who was following me also started walking fast. I can see the shadow coming close to me. I started running and kept running until I reached the peak of the mountain.

There was no way around it. I was standing at the peak of the mountain, panting hard. I turned back to only see that the person who was following me was standing there. I couldn't see his face because of the darkness, but I could see he was coming close to me.

With his, each step of fear grips me tighter. I didn't utter a word and kept standing still. I was shaking because of fear.

I took a step back. He was coming closer and closer. I can't move back anymore because if I take one more step back, I'll end up falling down from the mountain.

He was about 2 inches away from me when he brought both hands up and held me by my shoulder.

"I hate you," he whispered in my ears, coming close to my ear and instantly pushing me with all of his force from the mountain.

And that was when, I woke up panting and my chest ached. Why is it that whenever I go to bed anxious, I wake up in the middle of a horrible nightmare? It always scares me so much that I am not able to sleep the whole night after that.

As I sat straight in my bed, I noticed that there was darkness all around me. But I'm not afraid of the darkness because I am habitual of darkness. My life is far worse. My life is a mess. It is the kind of mess that I don't think can be put together.

I was feeling thirsty when I spotted a glass of water kept on the side table next to my bed. I stretched my arms to take a glass from the side table and ended up groaning in pain.

My ribs were in so much pain. Even a slight movement was causing me a sharp pain. I'm done. with my life, with myself, and everything else.

I don't get it. What have I ever done to him? What have I done to deserve this? It's not my fault that she's dead. It's not my fault that I found that she got into an accident. Why does he do this to me? Doesn't he love me at all? Is it too much to ask for some amount of love and some amount of kindness?

What was my fault?

As I was thinking about all of this, I heard footsteps ascending the stairs. My entire body begins to shiver. I swallowed my fear and looked at the time. It was 3:30 a.m. at the time. You can never get proper sleep in this house.

Suddenly, my bedroom door slammed open, and I winced slightly at the instant loud noise, but quickly hid it and maintained a neutral emotionless face. Showing any type of emotion would only provoke him.

He immediately looked toward the bed and spotted me. He smiled, walking over to my bed at his normal pace.

He stopped near my bed. Still, a smile was plastered on his face. He extends his hand and grabs a fist full of my hair. I suppressed a yelp that was about to escape my lips. He dragged me out of bed and threw me to the ground harshly.

My ribs, which were already hurting from yesterday, began to scream in pain. I winced and put my hand on my ribs, which were hurting. He saw that "Shit! Wrong move," I cursed under my breath. He grabbed my head and slammed it against the wall.

"Olivia, you're so weak! I am so ashamed of you, God. Why were you born in the first place? Instead of Scarlet, you should have been the one to die. Why haven't you died yet? " He said, while constantly kicking and hitting me.

"Don't worry. When I find the answer to that question, I will tell you too. " I thought, winching lightly with every kick he was throwing toward me.

He finally left the room at about 4:30 p.m. after getting all his anger out on me.

I tried to get up from the floor but found it difficult.

My ribs were aching and my stomach was churning from the continuous kicks. I may cough up some blood if I try to move.

My head ached from where he had slammed it down. But he didn't do anything to my face, which was a plus. He was well aware that the school administration would notice and report it. He didn't want to get himself into any sort of trouble.

I touched my head and my hand came back with no blood. ThankGod

I compose myself and begin walking to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for support.

●●●●

I finished cleaning up at around 5 a.m. That's when I noticed my friend at the counter. "My razor"

I instantly picked it up. The cold metal was soothing against my flesh.

Before bringing it to my wrist, I held it in my hand for a few seconds.

As soon as the sharp point of the metal made contact with my bare skin, I felt a sense of ease and comfort flow through my body.

I know it's bad of me to use this method to get rid of the pain, but there's nothing else I can do. I'm helpless. Aside from that, it helps in the easing of mental pain and suffering. And why not, if it helps?

I pressed the metal against my hand, and blood began to flow. I took a deep breath and made two more cuts. Relief rushed over me as the physical pain of the razor washed away all of my mental pain.

After a while, I got ready for college and finished my daily routine as quickly as I could with my bruised form. No matter what happens in my house, I can never miss school. I'd rather say I don't want to.

It's only that if I miss school, my grades will drop, and I'll lose my last chance of escaping his hellhole. And I don't want that to happen.

I came out of the bathroom wearing a pair of denim jeans and a plain long-sleeved top. I normally wear clothes that may cover my entire body because I don't want to expose my scars to others.

Because I had a bruise on the right side of my neck, I chose not to tie my hair today.

With no man in sight, I proceeded to the stairway because dad is rich. We live in a big mansion, but I live in the smallest bedroom that is closest to dad's room.

I descended the first step, a sharp pain raced through my body. In this state, descending the stairs was quite difficult for me.

But I don't have any other option. After hissing for like a hundred times, finally, I reached down and tried to go out of the door so that he wouldn't find out.

I reached for the door and opened it without making any noise, but as I was about to go out, I heard him say, "Wouldn't you wish me good morning?" with a smirk.

He grabbed my arm and slammed it against the wall with force. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to stop, but I held on. I had no choice. He didn't say anything other than wishing me goodbye in his own special manner, which was to give me a punch or two and curse out at me.

By the time I got outside the home, tears were building in my eyes. And no, I'm not going to call it home. Since Alex had left, it had never felt like home.

But I can't say that I blame him for leaving this house.

This is something I never do. I know, it was the only way for him to get out of this hell after everything he had been through.

I just hope we could be in touch in some way, but we couldn't because if we were both in touch, he would get to know about us and more about him.

Why is he so cruel towards me? Why had he been so cruel towards Alex? Isn't it true that fathers are supposed to look after and protect their children?

Yes, I know you're surprised, but that person is my father.

He is the reason Alex left home. Alex is my elder brother. He left me two years ago all alone with dad. When he was with me, he used to save me from my dad and his beating.

My dad is the only reason my life is such a disaster and so messed up.

I refused to cry over all the abuse my dad had done to me or was doing to me. I already believe that this is my faith and I can't do anything about this.

When it comes to him, I refuse to display any emotion. In my eyes, he was never and will never be my father.

Everyone already knew who my dad was, the rich famous businessman whose wife was died in a terrible accident and a son named Alex is out of this town because of studies and a daughter named Olivia is living with him whom he loves so much.

Seriously, love, I know how much he loves me. Note the sarcasm.

No one knows about the torture he inflicts on his daughter, and Alex is not away from town for college; he fled because of his torment.

Lost in thought I began my journey to school, which was about two and a half miles away. Dad would rather die than give me a car, so