My life was never perfect. I never had many friends and my family moved a lot and every house we lived in was crappy in one way or another. But it was never totally bad. I had a loving mother, a happy-go-lucky little sister, and a caring father. My mom did all she could to make our life a little easier, my sister was fun to play with, and my dad brought home the bacon so to speak.

      When I was younger, despite all the little problems, I had a decent life.

      Or so I thought.

      One night my dad had come home drunk. I mean really drunk. I was about to go to sleep when I heard a crash. I sat straight up in bed and looked to see my sister, still a baby, fast asleep. Then I hear shouting. Another crash. I ran to the kitchen, and almost screamed. My dad had my mom up against the wall by the throat. I didn’t scream but I did whimper.

My parents’ heads snapped in my direction. My mom’s eyes widen. Dad’s narrowed.

      "Honey call the cops, call 9-1-1," my mom gasped out, struggling against my dad’s hold on her neck. I was about to do what she told me to do when my dad’s slurred growl stopped me in my tracks.

      "Don’t you dare call the cops, you little bitch!" he said.

      "Daddy, why are you hurting mommy!" I whimpered in my high, quivering, seven year old voice.

      "Cami, go call the cops." My mother tried to get away from my father’s tight grasp again, but to no avail.

      I took a step forward then another. Then I ran up behind him and pounded my little fists on my dad’s back, screaming at him to let mommy go. My dad turned around and hit me so hard I flew across the room and smashed into the wall on the other side. Unfortunately I also smashed into a big mirror causing it to break and cutting my back and arms badly. I had the breath knocked out of me and I blacked out.

      When I woke up I was in the hospital. My mom had fallen asleep at my bedside.

      "Mommy," I whimpered. She woke up instantly.

      "Oh Cami you’re awake! How do you feel?" she asked.

      I winced and said, "My back and arms hurt"

      "Oh honey I’m so sorry. Please don’t be scared of daddy, he wasn’t himself and don’t say anything to grandma, ok? She’s worried enough as it is," my mom had pleaded to me and I agreed to say nothing. At the time I didn’t know why my dad had acted like he did so I went along with anything mom asked of me.

      I was in the hospital for another six days to make sure I had no brain damage. Fortunately I didn’t but I would have a few nice scars to show off when I was older. I had gotten thirteen stitches in each arm and 666 staples in my back from my right shoulder blade down to my left hip. All one line. Freaky I know but oh well.

      Other than that I had a few bruises but I was fine. My mom was too. The bruise on her neck disappeared in days.

      We never talked about what happened. Even when it happened a few other times. I was always instructed to stay in my room with my sister Ann. My mom endured the beatings until she found out he was cheating on her and filed for a divorce. They separated, I barely heard from my dad, and Mom got a $200 check in the mail every two weeks.

      So life went on, we moved once more and I had an almost romance. Almost. He never kissed me or anything else. I was the one who cut it off before we were even officially going out. I had thought I liked him and he apparently liked me but I was brought back to reality. Rudely.

      Anyway I was friendless up until my eighth grade year after that. And when school started I met her. She was in my first period class, had long blonde hair, light blue eyes, and was very short. We met when a folder of hers was knocked to the floor and, being the nice person that I am, I picked up the papers that had fallen out. But when I looked to see what I was holding my breath caught in my throat. I was looking at the most beautiful picture I had ever seen. Three very well drawn wolves playing under a bright full moon.

      I looked at the owner of the folder and asked, "Did you draw this?"

      She smiled and nodded.

      "Wow. It’s simply wonderful!" I said in awe, "I wish I could draw this good."

      "You draw?" she asked me curiously.

      "A little. I love to draw but I frustrate myself a whole lot when I do it so I don’t draw as much as I’d like," I said. Sighing I handed her the drawings.

      She smiled wider and offered her hand to me, "Hi, I’m Alicia Winter."

      I tool her offered hand and was about to reply when the teacher walked in.

      "Quiet now. Please take your seats," the teacher said. Then she started going on about what we’ll be learning this year. I tuned her out and wrote a note to Alicia.

      I tossed the note to Alicia. She read it and smiled my way mouthing ‘Nice to meet you too.’ I gave her my biggest smile and then turned to face the teacher pretending to listen.