January 14, 2012
By Anonymous

I will never forget that belt- the long, black, strip with giant rhinestones. I will never forget how it tore across my skin- my numbing hands attempting to block its path- and flooded eyes. My salty tears trickled below me, fogging my view. I saw nothing but my bed below me, in between my curling fingers. I kept telling myself that it would be over soon; nothing lasts forever. I had never been beaten before I moved here but there’s a first time for everything.
I remember the sorrow and rage I felt. There I was at twelve-years-old taking a whipping from my step-mother who I barely even knew; meanwhile, my father- who I also barely knew- was standing outside of the door listening. I wasn’t sure if I regretted my decision; I was unsure if I should confess. I had been living in Alabama with my father, step-mother, and step-sister for about two months; my real family, my mother and sister, were back home in Maryland, not knowing what I was going through. After being mistreated on a daily basis and having my privacy taken away- my step mother had installed cameras in my bedroom, read my diaries, told me that I would grow up to be a street-walker (I didn’t know what that meant until she told me), monitored me while I was using the phone or internet, and beaten me daily- I decided that I had to take action.
At school in the computer lab, I logged onto a chat website that I was fond of; I messaged my friend/neighbor from Maryland about some things that were going on- I felt uncomfortable sharing details. My friend and I used to go on the website daily but she hadn’t been on since I left to Alabama so I was unsure if she would get the message or not. She didn’t. Three days later, my step mom said she knew that I was on the website and she made me write down my username and password so that she could check up on me. I sat on my bed as she read the messages aloud to my father. They looked at me with their cruel eyes and told me that I knew I wasn’t allowed to be on the computer without one of them watching what I say. Terrified, I did what I thought was best; I lied. I told them that I had told one of my friends from my new school to log on for me and write the messages. I didn’t know what else to say; I was scared for my life. My step mother and my father didn’t believe me at all; everybody knew that I had a special way of writing things. In short, that’s when I got beat the worst. I would not confess. I figured the punishment for lying would be worse than that. It went on for about forty-five minutes and then we went to eat dinner. I could barely sit down. Then, it started again. My skin tore.
The next day, they came to my school and talked to my administrator and teachers. They told my computer teacher that I had been talking to old men that I didn’t know on the internet. There was nothing I could say. I sat and cried in the main office while students stared at me as they walked into school. My administrator came and talked to me. He said that he could prove that my friend hadn’t used the computer by searching what time the computer was accessed and looking at our classes. I was mortified. After about five minutes of his lecture, I gave up and confessed. I was horrified about what kind of punishment I would receive when I got home. I completed the school day and told some of the kids at school parts of what happened. My friends were scared for me. It didn’t matter, it would be the last day I ever set foot at that school; I eventually moved back with my mother and sister.
My experience has definitely changed me. For one thing, I realized what I will do when I’m older; I am going to be a psychologist for mistreated and misunderstood teenagers. I’ve always had a passion for helping people but now I can foresee a future doing it. I realize that some children I will work with will be reluctant to open up to me but I understand and I’ll be able to handle it. I know now that I can overcome any obstacle, no matter what it is. If accepted into this university, I will better the student body by helping to maintain its reputation of an astounding educational facility. I know that here, I can receive the proper education to better help people. I believe that I can change lives, I just need the chance.

The author's comments:
I kind of said "I" too much at the end :/

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!