A never ending night

I have memories, from when I was young. I don’t remember my age but I guess I was around seven or so...I remember the way his cold hands ran down first from my arms then to my legs. I remember the way my skin tore and the way I shrieked..I remember the names he called me...why did he call me names? Wasn’t this an act of love? Every night for nearly four years this happened the same thing over and over. It was a punishment for being alive, that is what he...they told me. Sometimes this man was alone and sometimes he brought a group of friends maybe 3 or more. They pulled my hair and choked my neck. When my mother picked me up and brought me to school the teachers saw the marks. The deep purple bruises on my thighs and the ring around my neck. They called my mother wanting answers but she had none. They asked if someone at school did this. I would shake my head. I never liked to talk. I had been told not to talk because I was useless and no one ever had time for me. I was often picked on at school and pushed around. My mother cried many times when I came home and many times he would do what he did to me to her. He hated her but he hated me more. I was not human, I was a toy. A little doll in a big ol’ doll house...a broken doll waiting patiently for a boy with glue.
Chapter 1.
I wish my voice, could be put on a speaker...a speaker that all women, all girls could hear. I wish I could tell them I am sorry. Sorry for how their fathers broke their hearts before any other man could. Sorry for how those terrible men crawled in bed next to them at night while they bite their lips so hard they can taste their own blood just to keep from screaming…Sorry for all the nights they will never be able to sleep because memories will burn their minds keeping them awake at night trembling beneath their sheets waiting for their master to come and ruin their beautiful bodies once again. Mine always had a time. 11:30. That was the time my brothers fell asleep. They all knew what happened to me, they had to. I had six brothers, all older than me. They watched out for me, protected me but at night...when 11:30 came around...I was all alone by myself. I guess everything has a price to pay. The nights that I couldn’t keep myself quite were the worst, often they resulted in a week of being locked alone in my room with only one bottle of water and a few snacks I had managed to smuggle in from downstairs. My room was dark, it had one single light that hung above my door and an old tv that only played one show over and over. I had memorized every line the character said and every movement she made. I remember the first time he locked me away… he had told me he was gonna hurt me...make me pay for how bad I had been… he took my water, my food, my clothes. He made me stay a whole week in that dirty room all by myself. I never told him to stop though. I knew that if I did he would begin doing this to my sister and I knew that he would beat my brothers...he would kill me the way he had killed my brother...how he threw him down the basement stairs as I watched in horror. His head hit the cement floor hard and he made no sound. No whimper no cry. My father then kicked him hard in the sides I screamed told him stop to stop hurting my twin to let him live. I told him to hurt me instead...and that’s when I made a mistake. No, it wasn’t a mistake it was a choice and if I hadn’t someone else would hurt the way I do. Everything I do is a mistake, every breath I take every step I make. I’m terrified to even look people in the eyes...school is the worst of it all though, I would take four nights beatings over the humiliation of going to school. All the girls laugh at me and in the locker room when I change they stare at my body and the scars covering it they whisper to each other and make mean jokes. The boys in class, they always try to get me to go to their parties, try to get me to go with them after school...they call me names...no one loves me anymore...I guess I’m just a whor…..
Chapter 2.
I write to you as quickly as I can, I’m not allowed to have paper or a phone in that case. I have to hide my journal under my mattress along with a knife I stole from my fathers drawer when he left his room unlocked once. I kept it there...sometimes I pictured myself grabbing it and thrusting the cold silver blade so far into the next man to hurt me jugular. To end it all and run, run so fast so hard my feet bled from the pain. I would run away...I wouldn’t cry. I could cut my hair and change my clothes...I’m sixteen I could even find a job. These thoughts race my mind every night...I don’t have much time. The bump on my stomach only grows bigger by the day. I wish my mother was here, I wish I could beg her for forgiveness, beg her to help me...but she isn’t and I can’t. I’m alone, by myself. When they find out, I know they’ll hurt me...I know they’ll hurt it. I know that if they are born female they to just like me will be nothing but a slave. I feel so weak, so tired. All I want to do is lay here and cry. I don’t know what to do… I don’t know what I can do… I fall to my knees every night, I pray. I pray so much and yet still I sit here in pain.