For once I was free

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Well read it and you'll find out!

Submitted: July 05, 2011

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Submitted: July 05, 2011



I remember, even as a little girl, I had to do everything possible to keep myself safe, but I couldn't have done it with out the help from my mom. The man,he didn't look human, through my eyes this man was a beast. Though the beast didn't aim for me at most times.

Still in my adolesent years, mother taught me of innocents. I was free from all moral wrong. But my father - The Beast - Was an abomination. Every inch of his body reeked of sin and hate. Not one trace of purness in all his years.

Each day that passed, a new scarifying cut or bruise was scribbled on my moms fragile body. I couldn't tell how much time she had. But she was going to be gone soon.

I didn't know what was happening. Though I was aware how wrong it was. As a lit cigarette to a non-smoker. My terror, my screams, pushed, trying to make their way out.

I wanted to put the monster back in the closet, locking the door.

A few weeks later, Mom had dissapered. A few weeks after that some people in uniforms came to rescue me from my fathers clutches.

I remember that a woman told me that I was going to be put someplace happy. Where a family would love me.

But I didn't want a family to love me. I had a mom for that. No... I use to have a mom for that.

As the woman promised, the family loved me. Although they made me happy, they weren't my family. They were the family. Susan wasn't my mom, she couldn't ever replace my mom. The woman that sheilded me from my fathers hate. As if contagious. Still today I wonder how she dealt with all of it. A restless woman, having to protect not only herself, but me also. How she didn't catch the spreading disorder? I wouldn't know. It was as if she developed an immunty.

I was intoxicated with linguring blissfulness as I lived with the family. Over time I began to noitice, when I looked at my reflection, everthing about me had changed. Instead of having the eyes of a dreaded little girl, I had the eyes of a happy teenager. Everything about me was brighter.

Five years after I settled in with the family. The police came back to get me. They explained to me how they thought my father had murdered my mother. Then they said how she commited suicide and they let my dad out.

Everything happened as it did when mom was around, except she wasn't and he did have her to abuse. So I was the target.

Each day that passed, a new scarifying cut or bruise was scribbled on my fragile body. I couldn't tell how much time I had. But I was going to be gone soon. Just as the monster had done to Mom.

Looking at my reflection, looking at my eyes, they weren't the eyes of a dreaded little girl nor the eyes of a happy teenager. At first I seen the eyes of my mother but that wasn't it. Fearce, hateful, scary eyes. I had the eyes of my father. The eyes of a beast.

After a while it didn't matter how much or how hard he beat me. I had grown numb. When he finished I would go outside to escape to the back of my mind. I would imagine being in the arms of Mom. Looking up at her angelic smile

I think the reason Mom went so quickly, was she didn't have a warning. I knew a family like Susans was to good to be true. But what I couldn't get across my head was that my mom commited suicide. She wouldn't do that to me. She wasn't selfish. Though Mom lived she wasn't truely alive. She was dead before she even commited suiced. And I knew, deep in side, she didn't commite suiced. Maybe her life was ended by herself.But her blood was on his hands. Mom was murdered.And on the inside, I was murdered.

Then , whenI was sitting in the kitchen, unaware that dad woke up from his hang over, when he walked in the room. I looked at his clean yet stained hands. Not to dear look at his eyes that now consumed my face. That reminded me that I caught the disorder.

He got the wrong idea.

\"You want some of this.\" He pointed to his dick.

I looked up at him, scowling.

\"You discust me.\" I felt like spitting at him. But I knew I was already pushing my luck.

I got up to rush out of the room, but he grabbed my arm and threw me on the table.

I wasn't going to let him get me.

I kicked him with both of my legs. Suprised by my force he fell to the ground.

A knife layed on the counter across from me I wanted to get to it. When I reached,Dad grabbed and pulled my leg. Along with pulling me onto him I flinched, making my hands and arms block my fall, landing on his chest.

I heard him yell but I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see what was going to happen next. But instead of what I expected, I felt his grip loosen.

I opened my eyes.

Laying in my dads chest, was the knife that no longer layed on the counter. I was too suprised of dad pulling me back to him I didn't realize that I caught the knife. And when I reached my arms out to block my fall.... I stabbed him.

Panicing, I went to run to the phone in order to call the cops. But when I went to dile 9-1-1 I froze.

I don't know how long I stood there but I started crying. Tears poured down my face.

What was this. What was happening. I finally got the chance to be free and I was blowing it.

When the tears dried I walked back to where my dad layed.

\"Help me... please\"

And then without a second thought. I started kicking. I kicked as hard as I possibly could for as long as I possible could .

It felt so good beating the person that constantly beat me.

\"I hope you rot in hell.\"

And then I left. I didn't prepare or pack. I didn't have any where to go. I just knew I was free. That I didn't have any where to be.

For once I was free.

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