Story of an abused child. |
I can see her coming with a belt to beat me again. I wonder what I did this time?Did I drop cookie crumbs on the floor? Did I not completely clean up the milk that I spilled? Even though I am only eight, I've learned to mentally escape my mother's wrath.Today, I think I will escape to the beautiful beaches of Florida. I can already feel the clear aqua water soothing my blue purplish bruised skin. As I mentally finish my swim, I am slowly wading through the water,back to my insane reality. I wonder how many bruises I have this time? Why does she do this to me? I have feelings too! Should I call her "Mommy Dearest"? Or should I call her you! I would like to swim away from this part of my life,but I have nowhere else to swim. There is no lighthouse in sight.Maybe I can use the kitchen knife and kill myself tonight! Maybe take the pills in the cabinet, and drift away peacefully.Why didn't anyone ever come and rescue me? As I take these eight pills, symbolizing the eight unhappy years of my life. I guess I will leave behind the pill bottle as a memory of me. Maybe after I die, people will learn to see-the invisibility of so many others trying to swim away lie me... |