Dream {Book 1}

Chapter one

"You little bitch!" Jason yells as he slaps my face again. I whimper in pain silently, looking at him through my hair. "You'll do what I want, when it want, got it?" He scowls at me and I cower away, expecting another blow.

When it doesn't come, I nod my head quickly. He grunts in response.

"Now be a good girl and get me a snack, fast." The tone in his voice tells me he's still pissed. He walks out of the room and lays down on the couch, flicking on the T.V.

When Jason says to do something fast, I've literally got less than a minute to get it to him.

I reach into the freezer and grab an ice pack for my cheek, then I open the cupboard and grab a bag of chips. I poor them into a bowl, then put the ice pack back into the freezer. Hopefully my cheek won't swell again, resulting in another beating.

I've been dating Jason for three years. He was every girls dream. Tall, dark, handsome, star of the football team and he was kind. So it made sense that everyone was jealous of me when I caught his eye. For the first year, I was positive that I was in love with him. He treated me better than any man ever had.

My father was and still is abusive. It started when I was young, my mother had died. He blamed it on his five-year-old little girl who didn't know any better. By the time I was eight, the beatings started around the clock.

The worst part about him blaming me is that I started believing him.

When I met Jason, I thought I would be free from my father, to live the life I deserved. But the fates just didn't think I deserved better. One day, while I was out with my best friend Darcey, my father called up Jason. From that day on, my father would give Jason lessons on how to treat me like I should be treated behind my back. I could tell that something was up the first time he slapped me. I came home a few minutes late, and Jason was there.

I'll never forget that day.

Darcey's been with me through it all. We've been best friends for longer than I can remember. She knows about my abuse, even tries to get me to call the authorities. I deny every time. My fathers so high up in society that I would lose no matter what.

I rush the bowl out to Jason, setting it on the side table. He makes no attempt to move for it, flicking between channels. I stand at the end of the couch with my hands clasped in front of me, my head down, like usual. The clock on the wall above the T.V reads eight O'clock. My father will be wondering where I am by now.

The house is silent, other than the sounds coming from the T.V. My breathing sounds loud to me, I wonder if Jason can hear it.

Jason practically owns the house. His parents are always away on business trips. I cherish it when I come over and they are home. They adore me more than Jason does. They pay the bills and pay for his food. The house would be a mess if he didn't make me clean it for him.

He pats the spot on the couch in front of him. It's so small that a little thirty-five pound child wouldn't be able to lay next to him. But I lay next to him anyway, knowing I'll get beat if I don't. I face him and look into his eyes. One of his arms wraps around my waist and pulls me closer to him. He kisses my forehead.

I swear he's bipolar.

I miss these moments with him. The moments where he makes me feel like I'm the only girl in the world, like it's only ever just us. It's the only reason I don't leave him. My father may have changed him, but somewhere, deep down, I know my Jason is still in there, and he's fighting the shit out of my fathers grip to come back to me.

I set my hands on his chest and lean into his touch. It sends tingles through me and I love the feeling.

He doesn't say anything to me, just brushes his thumb over the exposed skin on my hip and runs his other hand through my hair. I stay silent, worried that if I say anything, the moment will be lost to him.