My Loving Daughter
Well today is May 17 2004. You would have been 18 years old today. I try so hard not to cry whenever I write to you but I just can't help it.
I miss you so much. My Darling Daughter, I'm secretly glad you're not in this world. It's a wretched and cruel place, I won't to be able to protect you………
That's one of my mom's death letters that she always writes. Every May 17. It's as if she believes that somehow a little sheet of paper is gonna make it to my dead sister's soul somewhere and she'd reappear before my mom again or something.
My sister was a still born. Julia Ingrid Stone. There were times when I'd imagine what it would be like if she were here, with me? Although I don't at the same time.
I wouldn't be able to protect her either.
My name is Amber Stone. I was the redo.
The; "Maybe, this will be the one we've been waiting for honey." When the first time fails, you might as well try again. However, I don't think Brian was too happy with the outcome.
I looked down at the letters with the cynical hatred I felt for everything else and shoved them back into the scrappy old shoe box my mother gave me before she passed. First my sister, and now her…
"Who's gonna be next?" I contemplated, slipping it underneath my bed when there was a familiar twist in the knob. With a click and a breathy grunt, the door flew open and I watched the darkened figure sag in the doorway. The scent of alcohol wisped throughout the room.
Everything was silent. Not the library kind of silent, but the too-scared-to-breathe kind of silent. I hadn't really noticed, but I think I had already started crying.
"C'mere." Murmured the sag. This wasn't like one of those Meth commercials where you could 'just say no'.
I could never just say no.
But I did anyway.
"No.." It was a squeak. A childish, pitiful squeak. But an attempted squeak nonetheless. A cruel smile twisted across his lips, and I wondered how someone so drunk could even understand my whisper.
"Amber, Amber, Amber.." He trudged across the room, the smile still lingering on his face and he cupped my chin with an icy cold grip. "You never listen!"
"We talked about this didn't we? But then again.. You are just as stupid as your mother." I yelped from the sharp smack he yet again sent across my face and he began to tug and rip at my clothes.
I let him.
Like fighting would even help.
That's how my days tended to go.. After school I'd come home with only three different possible outcomes to my day.
1. My step-father would rape me.
2. My step-father would be too drunk or doing his too-desperate-for-words secretary. Also known as nothing but his business partner.
3. My step-father would rape me.
I hope I don't sound bitter. But sadly sexual harassment could do that to a girl. I wish there was some way I could sugar coat it but I can't. It is what it is.
"Aaah...." I croaked, reaching out for a pillow and curled my naked body around it, letting the linen soak up my snot and tears. Getting sexual attention like this from someone didn't make you feel pretty. It didn't make you feel fulfilled or anything. It broke you down. Down until you can't feel it anymore and down till you don't care about getting up. That's what happened to my mother and probably Julia would've got in line as well. Life is fun isn't it?
I heard a gentle vibration on the side table next to my bed and I unwillingly reached out and snatched my cell phone.
You've received 1 New Text Message!
From: Becca <3
Time Sent: 2:37 AM
Hey Amber… (: Sorry I no its late but..
did u do yur French Homework? I need some help ^^"
Is she serious? Now's not really the greatest time.. And that's exactly what I said. 3½ seconds later.
From: Becca <3
Time Sent: 2:40 AM
PLEEEEASE?!?! Fine. I'll just call you ;)
"Oh my Gosh, Becca, Seriously!" I shouted at the phone, feeling angry for a moment than like an idiot the next. I watched as my screen lit up with Rebecca's face and groaned, answering.
"Really bad timing Becks." I jab.
"Oh Vraiment? Sorry, I know it's early but I left my book at school and forgot we had vocab to do." Her little bird voice chirped through the phone and I tried to hold back my extreme irritation for my best friend.
"Look. It. Up?"
"My laptop died…"
"There's a great thing called your mother, who's fluent in French."
"She's working the night shift at the hospital!"
"Rebecca. I just can't do this right now! Something happened and as much as I would love to help you and all-"
"Whoa whoa, holy crap girl are you crying?"
"No." I lied.
"Shut up. I'm really sorry Amber, Gosh I didn't think you'd be so pissed.. What happened?"
That was always a question I really hated answering. What can I say to her? What would anyone say?
"Becca.." I listened to her breathe, quietly trying to dissect the hidden meaning in my tone and as if a little buzzer went off, I heard a low,'
"I'm such a jerk aren't I? Oh crap. I'm such a jerk! Amber, I'm such a total- ah! I'm really sor-"
"What else am I supposed to say… Was is good? This isn't like some twisted fairy god-mother story Amber!"
As if I wasn't aware of that.
"It's your life and you're hurt. And I'm a complete-"
"Well then, does it hurt? I mean my mom could..." I spread my legs and glanced down and then looked back out the window, watching the gloomy gray-green light of the moon shine across the walls.
I cried in response. This wasn't like me. Breaking down like this, but I was so vulnerable around her. Especially when she knew so much. Much more than she should. Rebecca just waited patiently as I tried to stop my hiccupping frenzy.
"I can come over you know. The hospital my mom's at is in Seattle right now, so I can drive over." I shook my head, feeling my disoriented hair swish over my shoulders.
"Don't. Just stay. Last time you tried to get in through the fire escape you almost broke your leg. And besides you think I want you in the same house as him? Think Becca. Think. "
"Alright. But if you're in pain Amber.. You know what you should do. Even I don't have to tell you that."
I laughed one ill-humored laugh and looked down at my skin. It was as if you could play connect the dot with the bruises.
"I already crossed out that option. The police getting involved is the last thing I want."
"They could help you."
"Help me get into a foster home with parents just as crap as Brian? Brilliant. I don't wanna.. Leave anyway. They'd probably send me into a different state and.. Oh things would just be harder! Don't you get that Rebecca!?" I shouted, furiously wiping away lost tears. Why was I yelling at her? She didn't understand. Wait. This was Rebecca. Of course she wouldn't understand. "I gotta go." I breathed.
AN/ So. 300 Million women and children are
sold as slave all around the world. 70%Are sex slaves. The
average age for girls is 12.
If you think this is bad, imagine you're forced to do it every day for a living.