❛ It's who you are. Abusive. Gross. Vile. ❜

chapter thirty seven.

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SCARLET COUNTS each of her father's step above her head, knowing that when it reaches 12 that he'll be stood directly in front of the basement door with the set of keys for the various locks hanging on his finger. Even through the large metal door, she's able to hear his low, angry mumbles but she struggles to make out the words fluently, her mind too consumed with terror.

Her chin wobbles as the door is pushed up, revealing her father dressed in his usual attire; a dirty wife beater clinging to his out of shape body while old joggers hang onto his waist. A cigarette dangles from his lips as he shoves a set of keys into his pockets before he stubs his cigarette out on the wall while his other hand pulls a string that causes a single lightbulb to flicker on in the basement. It hangs on a small lead a few steps from Scarlett and it illuminates her surroundings further. But she doesn't dare to move her eyes from her father as he begins to descend the creaky basement stairs. Dust and splinters fall to the floor as his large combat boots beat down on the shaky wood.

Scarlett's eyes burn into his boots and her body tenses more each step he takes, until eventually he lands on the cold concrete of the basement and a agonising silence washing over them as Scarlett takes her eyes up her father's body to look at his face. She sucks in a deep breath, trying to push on a hard front as she studies her father's expression. His face is flat, no wicked smile or beaming eyes. He just stares at her emotionlessly until he blinks and snaps himself out of whatever trance he was in.

"Well, well," He begins, rubbing his grubby palms together before folding them over his chest, "This is giving me a real sense of nostalgia."

She swallows before shaking her wrists slightly to move his attention to the chains linking her to the ceiling, "Fairly sure these weren't here last time."

"Oh, they were," He chuckles, rocking back on his heels, "Just didn't get the chance to use 'em before you scuttled away."

Her head tilts, "Can you really blame me?"

He dismisses her question, "You're mother was heartbroken when she woke up and found your rooms empty. Utterly heartbroken. She loved you dearly."

"That's funny," Scarlett scoffs, "As seen as she hasn't spoken to me once since I got back into town. Can she still speak, or has all the cigarettes clogged up her throat?"

She watches as a flash of anger washes through his eyes but he manages to keep himself calm before replying, "You managed to turn your own mother against you, Letty. Why the hell would she talk to the useless daughter that fled and left her childless?"

"If she bothered to speak to me, then maybe she'd find out why I left," Scarlett mutters, "Instead she's hid behind you and left you to do all the hard shit like usual. Has she ever done anything by or for herself? You want to talk about useless daughters, well maybe it's time you consider that your wife is the useless one!" She snarls, leaning forward slightly.

The first hit follows soon after her words. Her father's hand jerks forward, backhanding her left cheek and sending her head snapping to the sight at the rough contact as she grunts painfully. The first guy always stings the most, and after the fifth, everything becomes numb.

"First of many," He grumbles as his other hand grabs either side of her jaw and yanks her head back up so that she has no choice but to look at him.

"What's the point of all this?" She manages to mumble despite his hard grip on her jaw.

"Compensation," He tightens his grip, ensuring that she can't open her mouth to speak at the moment, "For all the years you've missed, and I think it's fucking disgusting how close you are to the Club nowadays. Have you forgotten what they did to me?"

She attempts to reply, but it just comes out as a strangled hum as he refuses to let her open her mouth. She glares at him furiously and after a small smirk tips at the corners of his mouth, he drops his hand.

"Yeah, you got kicked out," She mutters, "You brought that upon yourself."

"You think I was the only one with a drinking problem?" He throws his head back as his laughs at the mere idea.

"No," She swallows, "I think you were the only one who beat your children. And before I was born, I bet you beat mom too, didn't you? It's who you are. Abusive. Gross. Vile."

The second hit isn't a slap this time, instead it's a punch right across her right cheekbone and the sharp ring decorating his middle finger slices her skin and she hisses as her head drops to the sound. Blood fills her mouth as she shakes her head to regain some composure.

"I'm your daddy, girl. I know I taught you better than that," He lowers his head to fall into her line of sight as his eyes darken over with a warning, "You never speak to me like that again."

She spits out the blood onto the concrete between them before shrugging the best she can with her arms strung above her, "Can't promise anything."

He chooses to ignore the comment and she's surprised when his hand doesn't land on her face and she releases a shaky pent-up breath.

Robert begins to pace back and forth in front of them, dragging them into an awful silence as he stares down at his heavy boots and Scarlett is left to hang there and endure his presence. That was torture enough.

"I'm just wondering how to start," He finally cracks the icy air with an explanation to his lack of words, answering a question that Scarlett was too afraid to ask in case in resulted in another hit, "What do you think?" He pulls himself to a halt directly in front of her once more and he rotates completely to face her.

She peers up at him as she speaks with a small quiet voice, "I think you should let me go."

"Not so bold anymore, are you?" He rests his hands in the bend of his waist as his eyes rake up and down her body.

Scarlett shivers as his eyes flicker over her and she has no choice to but to let him view her bare legs and revealed underwear and she shifts uncomfortably, trying to snap his mind away from her form, but instead it just triggers him to lick his lips.

His eyes stay glued to the black dress draped over her body as his hand slips down into his pocket and a moment later he pulls out a combat knife. He raises it up, holding the sharp weapon in front of his face as he smirks wickedly, his eyes finally snapping back to her face, watching in enjoyment as realisation and fear washes over her.

"No," Her head shakes and she wiggles her body in an attempt to turn it away from him as he approaches, "No," She repeats sternly, trying everyone angle and direction possible to dodge his knife.

Until eventually, the cold metal blade lands on the skin directly between her breasts, just where the long neckline of the dress begins. She stills immediately, knowing any sudden movements will cause the knife to deepen into her skin. Slowly, she drags her terrified eyes up to look at her father, who just bites his lip in anticipation.

A single tear escapes her eyes as her father begins to drag the knife downwards, slicing the sharp blade through the material of her dress. Thankfully, it manages to not do any damage to her skin. But then he suddenly halts and the knife pauses at her stomach. She clenches her jaw, realising that Robert has also noticed that his action is not physically scarring her and a moment later he applies more pressure to the weapon, causing the tip of the blade to cut through her skin.

A yelp escapes her lips and she jerks in agony, throwing her head back and biting her tongue as her father returns to cutting her dress, but this time a small trail of blood on her skin follows after his knife. Until finally, his knife reaches the end of the material and the dress falls from her body and onto the concrete. She shivers as the cold air hits her torso and slowly she drops her head and her eyes land on her bleeding stomach and a small cry escapes her. It's not just the small wound upsetting her, it's the fact that yet again she is in front of her father in nothing but her underwear against her will. Exactly like eight years ago.

Robert clicks his tongue at the sight of his daughter and he steps back in triumph, sliding his knife into his pocket, leaving the end still decorated with her blood, "How many men have you let touch you?" 

Scarlett's in disbelief. This is the kind of shit that crazy psychotic ex-boyfriends do, never fathers.

She remains silent, trying to focus her mind and relax her breathing. Her eyes burn into the concrete ground he's stood on and she prays for a hole to open up and eat him before he dares to do anything more, but that never happens and he remains positioned in front of her.

"Answer me, girl," He snarls, once again brandishing the knife and using the end of the blade to tip her chin up so she's forced to look at his face. She swallows thickly as she feels her own blood be wiped onto her skin and he tilts the knife slightly to generate an answer sooner.

"None," She answers shakily, lying straight to his face.

His eyes narrow and his head tilts daringly, showing that he doesn't believe her in the slightest. Her eyes stayed glued to his, watching as they slowly flow over her body once more until they land on her shoulder blade. Her father's jaw clenches and the knife moves swiftly from her under her chin to tap at the tattoo scraped over her shoulder blade, under her bra strap. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, wishing more than anything that he'd never noticed it. She'd gone so long without him ever seeing it.

"What about him?" He questions roughly, "Jax," He reads before scoffing, "Jackson fucking Teller," He uses the very tip of the blade to run fluently over each letter as if he was writing it out, "I should've known. You two were always too fucking close. You fought too much for him. Too goddamn much," Her father's eyes finally drag themselves from the writing and down to his daughter's face once more as he taps the cold blade down one last time, "Tell me. Has that bastard ever touched my Letty?"

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, refraining from pulling a face of disgust at his claim of her, "No." She lies through her teeth, knowing either answer will land her in a bad position, she just hopes this one has a slightly better outcome. Hearing her answer, Robert takes a step back and the feeling of the knife leaving her skin allows Scarlett to relax slightly and she watches as he slides it back into his pocket.

Suddenly, her father jerks forward and his ringed hand flies across her face again, cutting her lip and slicing her cheek deeper and she grunts painfully. Her head hangs to the side as blood flows out of her mouth and down her chin until a few drips eventually land on the grey concrete. She straightens up, leaving a few droplets of blood to roll down onto her breast and her jaw tightens at the feeling.

"He ain't gon' rescue you," Robert spits furiously, "He don't care about you."

Scarlett spits onto the floor to get rid of some of the blood filling her mouth whilst she desperately hopes that Jax, or anyone, has recognised her absence to be odd. And for the first time in a while, Scarlett really hopes that Jax does care about her, otherwise she'll end up dying in her parent's basement and no one will ever know.

"I can't even look at you with that shit scrawled on your skin," He motions to the tattoo, scoffing in disgust as he rotates on his heel and marches back towards the stairs, "Look forward to tomorrow, Letty. I know I am," He speaks to her as he ascends the stairs whilst digging out his keys.

"Fuck you!" She snarls after him, her teeth washed with blood and she shakes on the chains, the rattling sound echoing through the basement.

"Quiet now," He tuts with a sly smirk, turning at the top of the stairs as his hand coils around the light cord, "If I hear any noise, I won't hesitate to cut you again."

Then suddenly, he plunges them both into darkness before he yanks open the large door and exits the basement, leaving Scarlett to rot all alone in nothing but her underwear with blood trickling down her chin and a jagged cut worked into the skin on her stomach. Letting her eyelids fall closed, Scarlett drops her chin to her chest like a corpse that no longer has any strength to stay upright.

She really hopes that Jax never stopped caring.

. . .

merry christmas babes!
this chap is your present from me 🤍
i hope you all have a lovely time x

word count,
2318

not proof read