Categories > Books > Cirque du Freak > Daddy's Little Freak

I am a freak

by MangaMistress 0 reviews

Does your dad hate you> Does he call you names becuase of what you can do. Does he beat you? Mine does. better than it sounds, promise. rated R for certain chapters. Enjoy.

Category: Cirque du Freak - Rating: R - Genres: Angst - Characters: Darren Shan - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2006-08-11 - Updated: 2006-08-11 - 2592 words

This is my first Cirque Du Freak fic; so try not to be too nasty to me please. I had another idea for a Darren Shan fic, but this one popped up and wouldn't leave me alone until I started typing it. Enjoy and please review.
Warning: this chapter will contain abuse. I you do not feel comfortable reading, then please turn away. Thank you.

Please don't come back tonight. Please don't find me. Why am I doing this? Oh yeah, I know why. If I don't I start to hurt badly until the pain nearly kills me and if I keep doing this, someone will kill me for it. My name is Sarah. Right now I fear for my life. You see, I am a freak, that's what he tells me, my dad. Ever since it happened. You see, I've always had a fascination with drawing. Ever since the first time I put pencil to paper I have never wanted to stop. My mother loved drawing too. She taught me how to use special paints, how to create realistic shadings and that when ever I feel upset I should draw what I feel because your emotions enhance what you draw and become your most valued tool. Dad's a lot different from mum; he hates drawing. He thinks it is a useless talent. He says, "Why draw landscape when you can take a picture of it. Just as good, if not, better." Mum always argued with him on that subject. She tells him that a photo can make an exact copy, which isn't good enough. A picture should have mistakes; it should look different from the real thing. That way it feels more human. She paid for arguing with him many times. I've never seen him do it before, he always locks me in my room, but I can hear it all. I can hear the screams. I can hear the sound of bones break as dads fist collides with mum. One-day dad got really angry with her; all she did was buy me a new set of colouring pencils. But, dad doesn't like her going outside, especially with how she looks. Mum was always so thin and pale. She was very frail too; the slightest bump against anything would leave a bruise on her. So you could imagine how bad she looked when someone as burly as my dad hits her.
Usual routine: dad throws me in my room and locks the door. I cover my ears to block out most of the sound, which never works. Something different happened that night though. Normally after the punching is over I hear mum whimper and cry for hours until dad unlocks my door. That night, I couldn't hear anything that I normally did. I heard a rustling sound, like a plastic bag. Then the door opened and I could hear dad grunt and puff while the rustling continued. When it went quiet I peeked out of the keyhole, something I never did before. I'm always afraid of what I might see. I felt the bile rise in my throat when I looked. The laminate floors were smothered in a dark crimson glow. Blood. Mum.
That was three years ago. Since that night dad has never let me leave the house. He knows I wont tell anyone, but he's making sure of it. The front door has two large bolt locks. The windows are held down with glue and nails. The only place that allows me to experience the outside world is our balcony. Hear I can breath, hear I can feel rain pour down my face and when dad isn't around, hear I can escape. I still want to draw but there is nothing I can use here. Dad got rid of anything I could use to draw with, he wanted to make sure I never did anything mum ever done.
The first time I tried to sneak away I was so terrified. What if dad came back early, but I remembered he never did. He prefers to work long hours because it is away from me. My only way down from here is to climb down the pipe the runs down the wall. I nearly fell off that thing five times, but once I made it down safely, I could barely handle my excitement. We lived in an apartment in an old part of town; we were the only one's still living in it. Grass and trees surrounded the area; I had to make the most of this. I ran around wildly, jumping and turning cartwheels. I climbed one of the trees. It felt amazing, just to sit in amongst all these wonderful creations of nature. I knew it wouldn't last. I had to get back up before dad returned. My foot landed on something sharp when I got down from the tree. It was a bunch of white rocks; they crumbled easily, even under my weight. I picked one up and decided to keep it for the memory. A flower or bit of tree would die after a few days.
I returned to the balcony. Why didn't I leave? Where would I have gone? No one knows me around here. How would I fend for myself? That night, I felt happy for the first time in years. Actually I think it was the first time ever, well at least on my own. I gazed at the white rock, and then started to fiddle with it; tossing it from hand to hand and taping it along the ground. I discovered something amazing that night. The white rock left a white line when I dragged it along the ground. How happy I was that night. I could draw again. What made it better was that I could rub it away. Dad would never know. I could draw while he went away and rub it all away before he came back.
After a few days and nights of drawing on the balcony, I had an idea. I remember dad always complaining about beggars on the street. I learned about beggars over the news on the radio. (Dad doesn't like me watching the T.V; he threw it away years ago) I learned that beggars were either people who didn't have a place to live, so they begged for money on the streets or they used their talents to make money. I thought if I could do something like that then I could make enough money to feed myself. I didn't care if I lived on the streets, I could return to the trees and live there. I'm sure I could survive out there, even in the rain snow I wouldn't care. I could do it. When morning came I snuck down the building. I collected more of the white rocks and ran to the nearest road I could find.
It took a while for me to get to a town. I wasn't sure how long, I couldn't tell time, even with a watch. Mum tried to teach me it once, but dad said it was pointless to me.
Eventually I come to a small town. It's kind of busy, I'm not sure, I've never seen so many people in one place before, and this could be quiet day for them. There are a lot of tables with stuff on them. People on one side give money to the person on the other side for the stuff on the table. I think this is called a market, like in that pig thing mum used to do with my toes. A place where people can exchange money to get things they need. After wandering around for a while I found a spot that wasn't being used for tables. It was quieter here so I didn't have to worry about people walking over my drawings. I start by drawing the tree I climbed last night. I made it quite large so I could fit more detail in. It wasn't till I was nearly finished that I noticed no one walked by this place, I guess I wouldn't make much money if I stayed here. I picked up my rocks and left to find another spot to draw.
"You are very talented" I spun around. A very tall man in a red coat stood beside my picture. I wasn't sure how he got there. The street was dead end, how could he have got this close without passing by me?
"Trying to make some spare pocket money?" I nodded. He stood in front of me with his hand held out. He held out the one thing dad ever taught me about, money. He handed me a full twenty pound note. "Don't spend it all in one place now" Before I could even thank him, he disappeared. One minute I was standing next to him with a twenty-pound note in my hand, the next, he was gone. Strange. Where all people around here like this? I found myself grinning widely a the thought. I might be able to live longer out here than I expected.
I found a new place with more people around. This was where I discovered what made me a freak. A few people stopped to watch me draw; they seemed really amazed at how I could draw so well. One man looked straight at me, I liked how his hair looked: half of over his face, kind of spiky and it was a nice shade of brown. This was when it happened. As his gaze met mine, my eyes flew open suddenly. I could see images flashing in my head and then I felt this overpowering urge to draw them. My hand worked at an amazing speed, in a few seconds the images were on the ground. It looked so life like; I drew a woman. She was crying. I drew her sitting at a table with a bottle of pills at her side. I didn't know what to make of it, but the man who looked at me stood very still. His face went very pale. Then he ran away. It happened a few more times. I drew one person in the middle of a road with a car coming towards them, another person I drew with a knife up against their neck. They were all getting scared, but it wasn't my fault, when I shared a glance with them my hand moved on it's own. Later some more people came by, only they looked similar, they all had the same black clothes on. Two of them picked me up by the arms and dragged me away. When I asked what was happening they said I was disturbing the peace. We stopped in front of an indigo blue car and the black dressed men said, 'we found her'. The door opened, the men pushed me in and slammed the door behind me. I toppled onto the car floor and my face met with a pair of shiny black shoes. I had a feeling who it was, especially when I felt my hair being gripped tightly as I was pulled up to the seat.
"You little bitch!" He growled "You thought you could just leave and you'd never see me again? I could have kept you in the house completely, but I thought I would be nice and let you sit in the balcony. Not anymore do you hear me!" It hurt so much. Why did he hate? All I've ever done is draw. He pulled harder. I could feel blood start to seep from my scalp into my hands as I tried to pry my hair away from him.
Tonight was the worst dad has ever treated me. He pulled me by hair all the way up the stairs, not caring how much I was crying. When we got inside he threw me to the floor. I tried to crawl away, hoping he wouldn't do anything if left without a fuss. I was wrong. I only made him more angry.
After all that he left me to cry on the floor. He called me so many names as he beat me. No matter how much I said sorry, no matter how much I begged him to stop he just kept punching me. He only stopped when said, " I promise...I wont draw again!" I tried explaining why I drew those things I saw in my head, but he called me a liar and a freak. I must be a freak. Those people looked so scared when they saw those pictures. Before he left, he held my battered face in his hand and gave me a light kiss on the forehead.
" I'll let you sit in the balcony one last time tonight, but tomorrow, I'll seal it up just like all the windows" I did a stupid thing. I looked at him, straight in the eyes. "But try anything and I will find you again . And next time I wont go easy on you" When he left I felt that urge again. I wouldn't let myself draw, I didn't want to go through that again. I then felt something twist in my stomach. Then in my head. I felt it everywhere. I screamed, the pain was agonizing. I staggered to the balcony. The night might not last much longer and this was my last chance to see the world. I fell over and landed on my arms, which caused me to screamed and cry again. Everything hurt so much and it wouldn't stop.
It doesn't hurt anymore now. I found something on the balcony and the pain left me when I picked it up. A small piece of white rock that I left behind. As soon as I picked it up my hand moved along the ground and the pain started to go away. I am a freak. I can't even stop myself from doing something that could kill me. The moon helps me see what I'm drawing. I fear what ever I'm going to see. I'm guessing when I drew those pictures in the street I saw something that was connected to them and that's why they were so scared. I've finished.
"Oh no" I can see myself, lying on the ground with blood pooling around me.
The door to the balcony slid open. Sarah gave a loud shriek as she wiped her hand frantically across the ground in an attempt to remove the picture. She was too late, her father stepped out the door and found what she was doing.
"You ungrateful little bitch!" He shouted. He grabbed her by the arm and slammed her back against the metal railing.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I couldn't stop it! It hurt!"
"Liar! You're a freak! I wont let another freak live under my roof!" He swung his fist up to her chin and knocked her off the balcony. No one could hear her screams. No one could see her pain. No one will find her body. No one had to find her body, because someone did hear her screams. Someone caught her as she fell, from one of the lower balcony's someone caught her hand just in time and pulled her up.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wont draw again I promise! Even if it hurts me I wont draw again!
"I will not hear of such things" Sarah opened her eyes assuming to see her father. It wasn't him though, instead it was a tall man in a red coat.
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