The Wind's Memory. Chapter One

Wounds Will Never Heal

This big place, they tell me, is where I have to be until my dad gets better. I just sit on this bed and think to myself yeah right, that maniac get better... what are they mental? I never thought a father could hurt their child as bad as he hurt me; I hated him for what he did to me. I have the burns and the scars to prove it. The burns and bruises are from him... the scars.. well...

They are from me.

I cut myself to make all the emotions he causes go away. I don't know what else to do. I don't believe in alcohol because I've seen what it can do to people. To be honest it scares me to death.

I've been inches from death. My father came home one night and held a gun to my head telling me that I'm worthless and I'm nothing to him.

My mother...She was no help. She sat in her room and waited for him to be done. She never cared. I've been alone my entire life. My brother was there, but he never went through the pain I did. I think my dad favored him a little bit to much. I wasn't allowed to do anything (unless I snuck out.) I never had many friends growing up. Those few friends I had never once came home with me. I was too afraid of what he'd do. About a year ago my dad was told that he was back to what was classified as normal... but anything can happen.

I wasn't really sure what to expect when the doctors told me I had to go to an institution. It was more of a play-it-by-day kind of thing. Nothing special. Although some of the girls in here are fairly odd. Most of them had eating disorders; others had been in abusive relationships and needed to get out but fear and paranoia stopped them. They all had something about their story that made them unique.

We all sit in a community circle and talk about what was going on in our lives to make us do what we do and how we ended up there. My story is the only one where I cut myself. No one really looks at me. They whisper amongst themselves that I don't belong. But I'm scared to tell them the real reason I'm here.

I loved my daddy. I couldn't possibly live without him. The only boy a little girl can ever count on is her daddy. So I never saw what he was doing as wrong until the night he took a lighter to my wrist, leaving my wrists bleeding away to nothing.

Inside the institution it's almost like the outside world never existed. There are no cell phone signs posted everywhere and the internet is for research only. You have to eat every meal placed in front of you, and you have to stick to the group level you were assigned to. There were five levels. At the first level you have to obey every rule. If you don't there are consequences. The second level has a bit more freedom, but you still have to follow rules. At least you aren't watched every minute of the day though. The third level you have limited internet time each day, but you still followed rules. Finally the fourth level. Limited time to use the phone and internet, and you aren't watched unless you were caught on camera doing something. The worst part of it all is if you fail to do anything you were suppose to or you're caught doing something you shouldn't be, you drop back to level one and start all over. Once you graduate the last level you can go home.

When I get home my dad isn't drunk but I'm still nervous about hugging him.

"How have you been for the past 6 months?" he asked me as we sat there looking at eachother awkwardly.

"I've been alright I guess, it was an awkward place."

"Did they treat you well? Better then I have ever treated you?"

"Yes, they treated me well."

"Good, I was worried they would treat you the way I was getting treated where I was."

"Why were you not treated good?" I replied hoping his answer was no.

"No, they treated me like I was a creature, like I was worthless. Although being in there made me relize how you have felt your entire life."

For three hours we talk like that. It was kind of nice. Something would go wrong, though. I can feel it.

Even after the apologies.