Annaleigh's Diary .4.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
-A peek into the diary of an abused, young girl.

Annaleigh—whose age is undisclosed—is a young girl who has been living with her Aunt Kathy whilst her mother, a recovering addict of an anonymous vice, undergoes recovery. Kathy takes Annaleigh into her home, but Seth—Kathy’s boyfriend—soon develops an unsettling interest in Annaleigh.

Submitted: November 10, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 10, 2012



Monday, December 19--

They won't let me see Adrian. They won't even let me call him without supervision; they're still convinced that I want to run off with him somewhere... As much as I'd like to, I don't think Adrian is as reckless as I am. On top of all that, mom, they say you're out of rehab and you don't even want me back... Is it true? I know you're trying to get your life together, but I could help... Couldn't I? I won't be a burden like before... Please, tell me it isn't true--

Annaleigh Smith


Wednesday, December 21--

I got a call from my mother today, and she's out of rehab... Sad thing is it's true that she doesn't want me back... At least "not right now," as she so eloquently put it... And, it isn't up for discussion.

Annaleigh Smith


Sunday, December 25--

All things considered, today was sort of nice... I wasn't looking for anything, but Aunt Kathy invited Jessica and her family again. I got to see and feel Adrian again for the first time in six days... When he arrived, I gave him the tightest, longest, most heartfelt hug that I could give. And guess what? After dinner, he kissed me... His lips--I can't describe the kiss without sounding too poetic or cliche', but... the feel of his lips upon my own was the damndest thing... I trembled when he touched me. He pulled me into his body, and I just... I dunno. I'm not very good with words; the feeling I got when he touched me was indescribable.

I have no idea when i'll get to see him again, but today was better than expected.

Annaleigh Smith


Wednesday, December 26--

(unintelligible scribbling)...


Wednesday, December 28--

I'm dying inside...



Friday, December 30--

I could feel him... He crawled in bed behind me, but I didn't move--I thought that maybe if I played possum, he would leave me alone. But, I was wrong...

I kept thinking, "Ignore him, and he'll go away... Ignore him, Annaleigh--Don't even breathe..."

I closed my eyes tightly and lay as stiff as a board.

His breath was sweet--dizzying. Whenever he spoke, my stomach churned wildly. He had been drinking, and the smell of him was making me nauseous.

 I can still feel his hot breath snaking across my bare shoulder and his unnaturally cold hand reaching around to my quivering stomach as he asked over and over again, "Are you awake?" 

I panicked, no longer being able to pretend I was asleep, and faced him. I begged him to go away and promised not to tell if he would just leave.

He didn't leave.

I screamed... No one heard me. I fought... He fought back.

Bloodied nose, light-headed, and dizzy, I raised a weak hand to block his advances, only to have that same hand slapped aside. His cold fingers slithered underneath my night shirt--I trembled.

Every inch of my body was covered in something tell-tale... My face was speckled with his saliva, moist with his sweat--and slick with my own blood.

--Whenever I close my eyes, I can still see his long shadow stretched across my bedsheets.

I tell myself, "It could have been worse... He only touched me--He only bruised me up a little..." But, it doesn't rectify what happened. I'm in pieces. What if he comes back...?


Monday, January 2--

I... I can't stop thinking about it. I laid there for hours, it seemed, bleeding out and dazed--hoping to wake up. Hoping that it was all just a vivid nightmare. But, no. The bleeding slowed to a trickle and then dried. And as I became increasingly aware of what happened, I went into a stupor. I couldn't move... I couldn't think. All I could do was stare into the ceiling and grieve for my safety.

And after the dizziness began to subside, I slowly sat up in my bed. By then, the pool of blood had dried into my night-shirt. I staggered, pitifully, into my aunt's bedroom to let "her" see what he had done to me... But, she wasn't there and neither was he... 

I didn't get angry... At the time, I didn't feel much of anything. I went back to my room, and I took a shower... I stood under the steady stream of hot water and let it singe every piece of me that he touched--in the hopes that it would wash away the frigidity of his coarse hands... 

Somehow, admitting it all--saying that something actually happened--makes me feel worse.


Wednesday, January 11--

School starts again tomorrow, and I look forward to it. Adrian started college last week. I wonder if he'd let me stay with him... He's getting an apartment. I'll be in college soon, also. Only seven more months until August, and I'll be out of this hell-hole. But, I don't think I can wait that long... Something's gonna have to give...


© Copyright 2017 Jennifer Brighton. All rights reserved.

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