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Good for Nothing.

Light's dimmed. Someone Like You by Adele plays on a low three in the background of my paradise. With the smell of Ocean Breeze filling the air, from the cheap $1.99 candles I bought at Wal -Mart. I soak in my own filth. Although disturbing to some, I cherish these moments. Moments where I can just lay, and focus on me for once. Not have to worry about boys, or my parents' divorce, and my mom's death from abuse, or anything. It's just all about me. I let the bubbles caress over my face, to make a Santa, as I amuse myself. It's my first time laughing, in what seemed like, forever. Hearing myself laugh, reminded me of how insecure I am of it, and I immediately stopped. As I finally rest my arms into the boiling water under -lying the bubbles, I feel a sting. My arm. I start to remember about yesterday, and how it wasn't the best of days. With being shoved into the locker while being called: Pig. Loser. Waste of life. and even more, I shutter and force myself not to think about it. But then the memories, fade back into my scalp as if they were an apparition, wanting to haunt me. I remember being told to go die. To go and kill myself, because no -one here loves me, or wants me. Knowing I shouldn't have listened to them torment my feelings, made me listen to them even more. I started to believe them. I stormed off, without a word, but with a tear. A tear that led to a blood drop. I'm starting to panic, to suffer. I feel the sensation of tingling and burning running through my arms, but I seem to enjoy the pain. I feel as if, the physical is healing, my emotional pain. I know this isn't true, but it helps for the time -being. The bang across the French door that leads to my paradise leads me to jump in horror. "Hurry up in there Emily!" my father stutters. Although I can't see him, I already know, he's had a few to drink, and this scene isn't going to be pretty. Already, my time to get away was ruined by the haunting of the past and by a drunk, single father. I grab the white Dove body wash and just rub it against my skin. I skip over the wounds, I don't want any red poofs over my arm when my father See's me. I just use the soap, to lather my body. I didn't want my father to think I was just in there doing nothing but lying there, although I was. I would tell him, but my father scares me. With abusing me and my mother, I know never to tempt him. As I step out, and start to wrap myself to dry, I hear the China in the kitchen start to break, with a loud yell and footsteps stomping towards the bathroom. "Emily you good for nothing daughter! I told you to put away the China! Now get out here right now!" Wearing nothing but the towel covering me, I stepped out of the bathroom to obey my dad, knowing if I did what he said, I would be less hurt. "Fa-" He slapped me. Before I could even speak. I held back my tears, crying in this situation, was the worst possible thing to do. I just stood there waiting for the next hit. I knew this time, not to speak. He just stands there, however, he's flopping his arms all around. He was having a seizure. Or so I thought. I went to grab him, and try to help him, until I realized what he had in his hands. He was not hurt, nor was he having a seizure, he had a belt. Not only did I not obey him and stand I touched him, and tried to move him. Big mistake. I squinted my eyes. I was not ready for this but I had no other choice. I felt the leather belt whip my wet right knee. I was praying to God by now. To have him save me, and take me away from this pain. My father whips me again. I feel it this time again, yet even harder. This time, across my left knee. So hard, I stumble to the floor. He responds with a shouting of "Get up Emily! Take it like you should! You deserve this!" I started to believe him. I don't what made me, but I did. I tried to stand, but I fell over. He was furious. He flung back the belt and this time went for my face. That's when I blacked out. I woke up, several hours later to find my father driving drunk, with me tied up in the back seat. With no way to move, I just sat there. I was still in a daze and as I began to try to speak, I then felt the duck tape, taped across my mouth. I became terrified. My father, was doing the ultimate punishment, and I knew what it was, by the look he gave me from his Ford F -150's rear-view mirror. I saw his eyes move from my eyes, to my cheek and that's when I felt the throbbing. The red lump on my cheek puffing out, burning, my arm, was nothing compared to this. I regretted falling down. I regretted not putting away the China, but it was to late. We pulled over at Wrigley's park. He dragged me out by my feet, not caring about my head banging against the Pepsi covered floor of his truck. He just left me. There to lay. I see him head to his truck, I start to wonder, why he hasn't left yet, until I see him close the door and walk this way. He had something in his hand. I couldn't yet tell what it was. Until he came closer. My life flashed before my eyes. Memories with my mom. How she was the only one, who ever loved me, who ever treated me kind. I also remembered the bad memories also. The bullying at school, being teased and hit everyday with no -one knowing what my life was really like. They said I had it perfect. They didn't know how far mine was from it. As I feel a tear drip down my face. The silver bat hits me, taking my last breath away. Taking the life, everyone wished I never had. Taking memories, that will be forever forgotten.





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