Chapter One

The rain splattered on the ground.  With every tiny droplet hitting the ground, mud splattered up and would muddy anyone who dared to venture out into the horrid weather.  The branches of trees and bushes swayed under the heavy downpour and creaked with every passing wind. 

Who would want to be caught out in a storm like this?  Of what we know, no one.  And it appeared that no one was.  For the whole town of Calming seemed to be under their roofs in the warmth of their houses. 

But at one particular house, one person was not in her home, not in its warmth.  And it was not her choice to be in this position but by an act of force and an act of cruelty.

Benjamin Harris had come home from work in one of the worst moods anyone could fathom, and had taken it all out on his daughter, making her believe she had done something horribly wrong.  He had done all the usual verbal abuses, but he had also slammed her against walls, broken a beer bottle over her head, punched her in the stomach a series of times, and then thrown her out onto the hard concrete and into the pouring rain in their backyard.  There was no way out of the yard and little shelter for the young girl, whose name happened to be Erin.

Erin remained lying on the ground and cried silently, holding her twisted wrist out to be cooled in the January air so that it would not swell.  And yet all the while she kept trying to think of what she had done to deserve this punishment.  What had she done wrong this time that was so much worse than the other times?  She was used to her father yelling at her and cussing up a storm. Once in a while he would throw her against the wall; but he had never hurt her this much, never sent her outside in the middle of a winter storm that would turn to snow any minute.  What had she done wrong?

The cold rain continued to pound against her body and it felt as though every drop soaked through her skin and into her very soul.  She could not tell which were tears or raindrops running down her face.  And yet every place in her body ached.  She could neither sit up, nor close her open mouth. 

The wind began to get stronger and stronger until the inch of water gathered on the ground began to move in little ripples and gradually turned into small waves.  Erin coughed silently and tried not to breath in the moisture, but was unsuccessful.  With a great deal of pain and effort, she raised herself into a sitting position and rested her head on her chest.

The time passed by slowly.  It seemed as though hours had gone by, yet only minutes had.  All seemed like an impossible eternity to Erin Harris. 

She took sharp breath after sharp breath and held her aching wrist close to herself.  Her stomach growled and she looked longingly up to the house.  Was her father going to starve her as well?  Was he really that mad at her?  What had she done wrong?

The back door suddenly opened and Ben waved her in.  With a great deal of effort, she stood to her feet and trudged into the house, cradling her wrist.  On the table there was a paper plate with a half eaten taco and a small amount of beans on it.  Sitting next to it was a glass of discolored water.

Erin sat down at the table and looked up at her father.

“Don’t be asking for any more, either,” he growled.  “That was left over from work, that was.  You’re lucky you’re getting anything at all.  I saved these out of the trash just for you.  And it’s a good thing, too.  I just cleaned out the fridge.  Now go on; eat up.”

“I’m not very hungry,” Erin lied, gazing at the condiments.  Her stomach growled and she held her breath.  Woops!

“You’ll eat it and you’ll be thankful for it.  And afterward you’ll be taking a shower too.  You look awful!”

Erin bit her lip.  She knew what a ‘shower’ meant.  It meant going outside, turning on the garden hose, undressing, and rinsing her body without any soap of any kind.  She turned and looked out the window.  The rain had turn to snow.  “If I eat the food, could I possibly just take a sponge bath and rinse my hair in the sink?”  She asked hopefully.

“What do you mean if you eat the food?”

“I mean, after I eat the food.  I didn’t – I didn’t”

“I KNOW PERFECTLY WELL WHAT YOU SAID AND WHAT YOU MEANT!”  Ben yelled, yanking Erin to her feet by her injured wrist.  “NOW YOU WON’T BE GETTING ANY FOOD AT ALL TONIGHT AND YOU’LL BE LUCKY IF THERE’S ANYTHING LEFT TOMORROW MORNING WHEN YOU GET UP!  NOW GO TO YOUR ROOM!”  He pushed her to the floor and kicked her in the side, then stomped out.

Erin scrambled to her feet, up two flights of stairs, up the ladder to the attic, and flopped onto her pile of old moth eaten blankets and flat pillows, which served as a bed.  She buried her face in her newest pillow and cried her heart out, only raising her head to take deep breaths and then crying on.  Why was her father so angry with her?  What had she done?

He had just come in the house, seen her lying on the couch and reading, got mad, and started beating her.  Maybe he was mad at her because he had had to work all day and she had time to lie around and read.

To tell the truth, the times when her dad was at work were the best Erin ever had.  It seemed he was always angry with her for something and when he was gone, she had peace and calm.  Once in a while she would brave sneaking a bath or having a cookie with a glass of milk.  Most of the time she did chores.  Her father thought that she had so many chores she could not get a minute of fun time in.  But he was wrong.  She had some odd techniques he would have never thought of which allowed her to finish very early.  So afterwards, she read, snuck up to his room to watch a movie or just TV, or maybe she taught herself to play piano.  Her favorite thing to do was to go up to her dad’s bedroom and look at the picture of her mother. 

Helen had been her mom’s name.  She had died giving birth to Erin and Ben seemed to have never forgiven her.  But Helen was so pretty, Erin never tired of looking at her face. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Erin stole down the stairs as silently as she could muster.  It was one o’clock in the morning and her father should have been asleep for a couple of hours, which meant she could get something sanitary to eat.

She had wrapped her wrist firmly in her old baby blanket she used in times like these.  And though the cloth was fading and thinning so much you could see your skin through it, she still loved it and kept it close. 

Erin opened the refrigerator and shook her head.  Her father had not emptied it at all, for it was still full of food.  She dared not take anything of great importance.  So, she silently pored herself a small glass of milk, pealed a boiled egg she had made herself, and took a small stick of jerky up to her room, carefully closing the trap door behind her.

Her attic was not much, but it was what she called ‘home’.  The roof slanted down to the left and right.  Erin had set up her small group of possessions by the window in the back of the house.  Her father forbade her to look out the front window, as he did not want their neighbors to see her.  And so, he had piled a bunch of boxes in front of it just to make sure. 

Yet she ‘loved’ the space that she did have.  The old orange carpet from downstairs covered the floor and a forty-watt bulb hung from the ceiling.  As long as there was light to see by, she was forbidden to use it.  Her bed, as said before, was made up of all the old blankets and sat right under the window.  An old trunk was at the foot of her bed and held all of her clothing.  At the head of her bed was a small bookshelf where she kept her very small collection of books and other small trinkets.

However cheep her room was, it was her only retreat from her father, as he hated attics to their roots and only came up when he was pressed beyond belief. 

Erin lay down on her bed, set the small bits of food on the windowsill, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.  Outside she could see the snow falling lightly onto the already white earth and surprisingly had enough light to finish her meal, hide the cup, and slip under the covers, still clutching her wrist tightly to herself. 

A/N: Well, this is my first chapter.  I hope you like it to an extent.  I would really like it if you reviewed!  I am not sure when I will be updating, so please bear with me.  The more reviews I receive, the more inspired I will be to write! (Hint, hint…)