How Much Longer?!

I don't remember how a home used to feel. I don't remember what happiness felt like. I have lost so much in the past two years I don't remember...

I look out the small window of my dark room. The glimmer of sunshine still brings me hope, even today as I watch other twelve year old children having fun and playing. They run and play, and smile and laugh and trust so innocently, in a way I can barely remember now, and never touch, let alone hold again.

It's been two years now since I have felt the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, or the way the rain used to fall on my skin and make me cold. I remember so little of my past life, that I often wonder if those who were stolen from me even remember me. If I ever cross their mind on a sunny day, on a cloudy day, on any day? I remember them, I really do, and it's the touch of my mother I think I miss most.

I miss the loving touch of a warm and gentle hand. I miss the voice that used to call out my name with love and an eagerness to see and hold me again. I miss the bedtime stories of a fantasy life that used to cradle me to sleep. I miss waking up in a home, surrounded by love, and protection and provision. I miss my father and how he used to punish me when I got in trouble. I miss how he used to hold his babygirl in his protective arms, that could fix anything and scare any monster away that hid under my bed. I miss my little sister following me around like she was my shadow. I miss her innocent eyes that looked at me so tenderly. I miss much, because I have lost much.

I remember those days, but today like the past two years have a been a nightmare. I get called, but it's not my name, and it's not in love. I get held, but it's not loving and tender. Instead it's harsh and cold, and it hurts all the time. I am the fantasy now and not the bedtime story. The protective arms of my father are gone and all the arms that hold me now belong to monsters. I live in a house, it's cold all the time. There are no windows, except the small one in the attic, and it can't be broken. The walls are white except in the bedroom, where the camera is. The walls in there are covered in pink and purple, and the bed is small and white. The dresses are pretty though, even the make up I wear now, the men say it makes me look pretty, even though I feel ugly all the time.

It's been two years now and I can't remember what a home is. I can't remember how love, real love feels. It's been two years now, how much longer, how much longer how much longer how much longer how much longer how much longer how much longer???!!!!