“Just stop it!” I screamed as I slammed the door shut. I could feel my heart beating faster than ever. I ran on my bed, grabbed my pillow and let out all of my stress.
I screamed so loud I think the neighbors heard me. I then heard a loud mumble from upstairs. I was terrified as I saw my drunken father furiously enter my bedroom. He grabbed me by the arm and threw me to the floor. I was too terrorized to do anything but let myself be thrown like a puppet.
“You woke me up” he yelled. I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do but lay there with my hand covering my head. I was hoping I wouldn’t get a beating tonight like I did last weekend. It is so hard having to lie to everyone I know whenever they ask me about my bruises. Deep inside I know I need to tell someone but I am scared that if I do, I will get into even more trouble.
My father kept on yelling but I decided to block his words out of my hearing. It was so quiet. I could see my mother crying at my door begging him to stop. She tells me she loves me but if she really did, why doesn’t she stop him? Why does she let him to this to me? Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I could feel my cheek tickle as the tears ran down my face. Everything seemed so perfect but all of a sudden everything came back. It was so loud and there was so much yelling.
“Are you listening to me?” my father shouted as I saw his hand come right down to my head.
That is the last thing I remember from that night. Here I am, two days later, in a hospital bed. I opened my eyes, but the light blinded me. The doctor came in. He told me I had a broken nose and my skull was cracked in three places. He said he would come back tonight to check on me again. I started crying. Why me? Why do I have to go through all of this misery?
It seemed like forever until the doctor visited me again. He told me I was healthy enough to go back home. I screamed and told him not to make me go back home. He told me to sleep it off and that he would see me in the morning. He was such a mean doctor. I did not want to go back home. It was hell back home.
I tried to fall asleep but I couldn’t. Hours later I take a look at the clock. It is three in the morning. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I took off the white robe that the doctor gave me and crept out of bed. I found a chair and took the belt off my jeans. I tied the belt to the sealing fan. My hands were shaking so much I could barely tie a knot on the belt. Should I do this? Should I really go through with this?
I was asking myself all of these rhetorical questions. I was so nervous but I knew I had to do this. I couldn’t live with my dad any longer. I decided just to get it over with. I climbed on the chair, put that belt around my neck, and pushed the chair to the floor.
Right before I drew my last breath, I took a last...
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Thank you punker103 providing the wonderful image.
This is one of my first Text entries so PLEASE feel free to give me as much critique as you could possibly give :)
thanks.