Post by roseysweetbabygirl on Jun 21, 2010 15:37:21 GMT -5
Pt. 2
And like that Harold was in ther lives, always there, always watching.
Mackenzie:
He's back, and I watch mother, slowly die on the inside, how could he do this to us? Last night when he came in my room, he found it upon himself to thrash me from my bedroom to my bathroom, because he could, because no one was there to stop him. Why is it, that when I find hapiness, God turns around, and takes everything away form me? God hates me. Why else, what other explination would there be for a life to be like mine. I know it sounds negative, but it's the truth. Today is the begining of summer, even though "Father" wouldn't permit me to go to my last week of school, this is when my friends get out of school. Maybe, he was just bored one day, and found that he should come back, and show us, that we can never really be away with him. I don't know, I guess I've never known, nor will I ever. How could it be, that mother let's him do this to us? This morning, I found it near to impossible to even get out of bed, my side was killing me, my throat felt like it was on fire, like the night before he left us, and my apendix was inflamed, It was called "reference pain" since, the doctor's couldn't find anything wrong with me. I have concluded that Doctor's are blind, that or stupid, but from now on, I will not go to the Doctor, because that only gives him another reason to beat on me. I knew something was wrong with my body ,because I couldn't move my pinky finger, but I didn't dare tell him. I got up, and went to make breakfast for my parents. When I got into the kitchen, I saw my mother, laying on the floor, she looked terrible, so I did what any 10 year old girl, would do, I went and dragged my half dead mother to the couch, and cleaned up her blood. Afterwards, I made my Father, who constantly abuses us, a nice warm pancake breakfast. When I brough the food to hm. I got thanked with a big round fist to my face, I had forgotten the syrup, so obviously it was my fault. Enough about my mornin rituals. My "father" hangs around this overly fat guy, named Frankie, and a smoker, named Charlie. Sometimes his friend like to take advantage of my mother, and my "father" lets them, because they paid up front, so of course, why wouldn't they get a chance with my mother? Those nights, I hide in the bathroom cupboard, and plug my ears so I can't hear what those men to do her. Once, I thought about just dirnking a whole container of Drain-o, because it's not like my parents love me, so why would I hang around? So, this is right after my breakfast "incident" and my father yells at me, to go and get him some syrup, because I used the last on my dinner last night. I made myself syrup soup, because father won't let me eat anything. I hop on my old rusty bike, and start pedalling towards the market. I cross over this fence line, like an alley-way, but it's kinda more like a dead end, we just call it the alley. I hear a familiar, sickening voice, I instantly recognize hime, as Frankie, because I could one, smell him, and two, hear him..but then a large hand clamped around my mouth, and it was smelly like Frankie's, or charlies, it smelled like Old Spice, like "Father" Then, I was thrusted off of my bike, and I felt large boots driving into my side, I turned and threw up my "soup" from last night. It was sour and juicy, my head started to pound furiosly, and then, he continued to kick me, over and over, my face was forced into my mess. My "father" must have felt satisfied, because he left with Frankie and Charlie, but as I started to rise, I smelled a fould, disgusting smell, it was Frankie, he came back, and forced my wrists down, onto the hard pavement. His massive body, was pressed against mine, he started doing something, but I couldn't figure out what. I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Daddy" over and over, then I saw him, he looked angrier, I figured my shirt was off, because he was trying to do something else, but I won't tell you what, the pavement and shattered glass was ripping into my skin, the father screamed at Frankie, and kicked him in the head, and his massive body enveloped my frail frame, I screamed louder, but then the weight was off of mine. My father lifted me onto his rugid shoulders, like I was his princess, his champion again, and I cried and hugged my Father, for the first time in a long while, I felt warm, and safe. Father took me home, and tucked me into my bed, and kissed my forehead, but he said something that made me utterly sick to my stomach. "I knew you weren't old enough, I should have waited utnil you were thirteen like I was going to. Huh, oh well" and then he walked casually out of my room, to leave my there, and I knew what had happened. My father had tried to sell me, like he sold mother. I cried so hard, that I got sick, and dry heaved onto my clean blankets, I felt so ashamed that I just laid in my filth, because I deserved it. I am so terrified, because next month is my 13th birthday.
And like that Harold was in ther lives, always there, always watching.
Mackenzie:
He's back, and I watch mother, slowly die on the inside, how could he do this to us? Last night when he came in my room, he found it upon himself to thrash me from my bedroom to my bathroom, because he could, because no one was there to stop him. Why is it, that when I find hapiness, God turns around, and takes everything away form me? God hates me. Why else, what other explination would there be for a life to be like mine. I know it sounds negative, but it's the truth. Today is the begining of summer, even though "Father" wouldn't permit me to go to my last week of school, this is when my friends get out of school. Maybe, he was just bored one day, and found that he should come back, and show us, that we can never really be away with him. I don't know, I guess I've never known, nor will I ever. How could it be, that mother let's him do this to us? This morning, I found it near to impossible to even get out of bed, my side was killing me, my throat felt like it was on fire, like the night before he left us, and my apendix was inflamed, It was called "reference pain" since, the doctor's couldn't find anything wrong with me. I have concluded that Doctor's are blind, that or stupid, but from now on, I will not go to the Doctor, because that only gives him another reason to beat on me. I knew something was wrong with my body ,because I couldn't move my pinky finger, but I didn't dare tell him. I got up, and went to make breakfast for my parents. When I got into the kitchen, I saw my mother, laying on the floor, she looked terrible, so I did what any 10 year old girl, would do, I went and dragged my half dead mother to the couch, and cleaned up her blood. Afterwards, I made my Father, who constantly abuses us, a nice warm pancake breakfast. When I brough the food to hm. I got thanked with a big round fist to my face, I had forgotten the syrup, so obviously it was my fault. Enough about my mornin rituals. My "father" hangs around this overly fat guy, named Frankie, and a smoker, named Charlie. Sometimes his friend like to take advantage of my mother, and my "father" lets them, because they paid up front, so of course, why wouldn't they get a chance with my mother? Those nights, I hide in the bathroom cupboard, and plug my ears so I can't hear what those men to do her. Once, I thought about just dirnking a whole container of Drain-o, because it's not like my parents love me, so why would I hang around? So, this is right after my breakfast "incident" and my father yells at me, to go and get him some syrup, because I used the last on my dinner last night. I made myself syrup soup, because father won't let me eat anything. I hop on my old rusty bike, and start pedalling towards the market. I cross over this fence line, like an alley-way, but it's kinda more like a dead end, we just call it the alley. I hear a familiar, sickening voice, I instantly recognize hime, as Frankie, because I could one, smell him, and two, hear him..but then a large hand clamped around my mouth, and it was smelly like Frankie's, or charlies, it smelled like Old Spice, like "Father" Then, I was thrusted off of my bike, and I felt large boots driving into my side, I turned and threw up my "soup" from last night. It was sour and juicy, my head started to pound furiosly, and then, he continued to kick me, over and over, my face was forced into my mess. My "father" must have felt satisfied, because he left with Frankie and Charlie, but as I started to rise, I smelled a fould, disgusting smell, it was Frankie, he came back, and forced my wrists down, onto the hard pavement. His massive body, was pressed against mine, he started doing something, but I couldn't figure out what. I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Daddy" over and over, then I saw him, he looked angrier, I figured my shirt was off, because he was trying to do something else, but I won't tell you what, the pavement and shattered glass was ripping into my skin, the father screamed at Frankie, and kicked him in the head, and his massive body enveloped my frail frame, I screamed louder, but then the weight was off of mine. My father lifted me onto his rugid shoulders, like I was his princess, his champion again, and I cried and hugged my Father, for the first time in a long while, I felt warm, and safe. Father took me home, and tucked me into my bed, and kissed my forehead, but he said something that made me utterly sick to my stomach. "I knew you weren't old enough, I should have waited utnil you were thirteen like I was going to. Huh, oh well" and then he walked casually out of my room, to leave my there, and I knew what had happened. My father had tried to sell me, like he sold mother. I cried so hard, that I got sick, and dry heaved onto my clean blankets, I felt so ashamed that I just laid in my filth, because I deserved it. I am so terrified, because next month is my 13th birthday.
