My name’s Alex. Some people call me Al. I remember the year everything changed. All the secrets in my life uncovered. At first it hurt, but now I found that I liked it. I’ve learned
so much. It’s been a year since this all happened.
My mom died when I was 14. I lived with Dad, who abused and blamed me for my mother’s death. My aunt Peggy gave me my
mother’s old diary, to write in about my thoughts and feelings about her death. Instead, I write what happened when Dad abused me, and what I felt about him.
I soon learned that I could talk, see, and hear God. He’s quite sweet, and helped me through my once miserable life. He talked to me and told me what I should and shouldn’t do. He’s
the one who told me the secrets I didn’t know. He told me secrets about my mother, about my father, about my enemy (Natasha Meyer).
Now, about my once miserable life. So you already know about my crappy parents. I’m not in the “in” crowd. I was one of those people who studied all the time. It was my way of hiding
from Dad. Also, I was quite ugly. I had acne, had frizzy brunette hair, tall, huge nose, and wore glasses. At first I was a non-believer.
So, of course you all want to know about God. At first I thought he was crazy. He told me I was “Jesus”. He told me I was supposed to write about Him. He could be Himself, which he
was a man that only I could see, or he could transfer to someone’s body and talk to me, which freaked me out.
God told me I was meant to be the daughter of Him. He told me I was meant to write about Him and my experience. So here I am writing it. This is my story.
I run upstairs to my room. Crying, I shut the door. I ran to my bed and opened my nightstand drawer. I got my diary
that read “Alex’s diary”. It was my mom’s old diary. It used to read, “Peggy’s diary”, but I scribbled out the “Peggy”. It was purple, my favorite color. I got my purple pen that matched and
swung my brunette hair back. I wrote:
It happened again. It started with yelling, then slamming his hands down, then pushing me, then bad bruising violence.
I stopped, walked to the mirror. I had a black eye. I touched it, then flinched with pain. It hurt,
I hurt all over. Especially my heart. He had yelled at me, told me it was my fault Mom died. How could it be? She died from a car wreck! I never even got to see her!
My mom had been hit by a drunk driver. He slid into her, while she was on the opposite side of the road on a bridge. She fell in the creek and they couldn’t find her.
It hadn’t always been this way. My father used to love. He used to hug and protect me. I used to run and hug him after work. Now I have fear when he walks in the house. When he
walks in the room, I shake.
It happened shortly after my mom died. I was fourteen. Our whole family crying. Everything changed.
I used to believe in God, but now I know there is no God. What God would kill my innocent mother? I used to socialize, now I study just to hide. Everyone knows she’s dead. They all
stared at me. That’s what happens when something devastating like that happens.
After I examined the bruises, I went to my bed and finished the diary entry. I looked at my alarm clock. It was 1:00. I laid my head down and cried myself to sleep.
The next day I went to school. I met up with Jenny and we talked. Me and Jen are best friends. We have been since I
was five. Although we’re close, she doesn’t know what “he” does. Sometimes her and other classmates, that don’t really care about me, catch some of the bruises. I tell them I’m a dork and fall a
lot. They believe me.
“Hey, where were you last night? I called you”, Jenny questioned. “Oh, I was studying”, I stuttered. Jen gave a concerned face, “Are you okay, Al?”. I turned and rolled my eyes behind
her back, then gave her an irritated voice,” yes, Jen”. They entered the classroom. “Look, I’m just trying to help”, she acted offended. “I’m sorry it’s just-“, I started. “Everyone be quiet and
sit”, Mrs. Nightingale yelled for them to be quiet. Everyone obeyed.
After school, I got my favorite snack (pretzels), I got Diet Dr. Pepper and sat at the couch. I turned on the TV and did my homework. After my show was over, I went upstairs and
studied. A few hours later, my dad came in and went to my room to check on me. We nodded at each other. That’s how it always was. We barely ever talked unless we had to.
When I decided to take a break from studying, I went downstairs. I saw my dad looking at a framed photo of my mother and him.
“You’re mom was a great girl”, he said, smiling, “I was lucky”. I gave him a worried smile and nodded. He was! Who would marry this guy? “She was always lovely. She could make anyone
smile. Ah, and her passion for Christ. That’s how I met her, you know?” I decided the story was interesting, so I sat down and told him to go on. He smiled, happy that I was interested. “I was
at church and was really strong in God, s o was she. We fell in love”, He smiled with delight. Wow, he was actually a good Christian? I don’t think this “God” likes him hitting
I gave a weak smile and nodded.. I knew he was lying. I got up to leave when he stopped me. “What’s wrong?” he
asked. He tried to find what I was hiding. He squinted his eyes as if searching for something inside me. I was quick to respond, terrified of what would happen, “Nothing”. “Nothing, huh? You don’t
believe me, do you? You don’t think I was a strong Christian”, he said, trapping me. He already knew the answer; he was waiting for my response, then hit me. I gulped, shaking, trying to pull away.
He gripped my arms harder. All of a sudden I hear a loud RIIIING! I jumped with excitement. I took a deep breath, as he walked to the phone. I didn’t know if I should run, or not. No, he’d outrun
me, for sure.
“Hello? Yes, oh yes, I am. I forgot. My bad, I’ll be there in a few”, he talked in the speaker and hung up. He turned to me, “I’m going to church”, he said it so calm, as if nothing
just happened. He got his coat on and left. I stood there, staring at him, stunned. “Do you want to go”, He yelled with frustration. I shook my head “no”. “I’m going to study”, I said terrified. I
was trying to avoid having to go to stupid church, and avoid going with that “beast”.
I watched him leave, then went upstairs and did what I always did. I wrote in my diary. I don’t know why I wrote in it right after we got in a fight. I guess because I thought maybe
someday someone would find it and report him. I also thought I’d show him my feelings with him when I was safe. If that’d ever happen. I guess I had what Christians call “hope”.
He almost strikde again. I was saved by the phone. He seemed so calm afterwards. How can you be so calm when you just about hurt someone you love? No, how can you hurt someone you
When I was finished I locked it up and thought for a bit, then fell right asleep. It was funny, I fell asleep trembling
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