Turning my head over my left shoulder, I made sure he was asleep before swinging my legs round, careful not to make a sound to sit at the edge of his bed. I slowly bring my wrists to thighs, scanning them over to check for new bruises. My eyes shift from left to right, taking in the black and blue covering my skin. I let my vision rise up my arms, each bruise becoming bigger and bigger as I reach my shoulders.

Starting to walk over to the bathroom, I picked up the makeup bag I kept on the bedside table. It always lived at his for times like these.

I carefully laid each bottle and pallet out on the sink, taking one last look in the mirror; looking at my past and my future.

Beginning to apply the concealer, a wince lies my mouth, having to touch every tender spot on my skin to allow my family not to find out.

With every press, I was forced to blink back tears, shuddering when I felt a pair of lips sucking on my neck.

"S-stop, " I swallow and shake, trying not to show weakness through tears; the weakness he tore me down to.

"Whats that, baby girl?" I tinge at his tone.

"M-my name is Jane, " I bite down on my bottom lip as a whimper escapes.

"Yeah, but you're my baby girl, "

I just nod. He practically owns my body. It's his to do whatever he wants to.

We already have a son together, Edward. I had Eddie at 13 after he induced me with some drug of some sort. He just wanted my pregnancy to be over so I was skinny again, and be his trophy.

Thankfully, Edward was
kept on life support until he was more developed at the hospital, and the school let me see him in the six hours I was meant to be being educated. Be he never did. He didnt care for Ed in the slightest. And I'm very glad.

My son is never meeting his father.