Abused death. | Teen Ink

Abused death.

July 12, 2012
By Anonymous

I walked from the garage into the house. There sat my step-father. I briskly walked by as he yelled “Jennifer, get your a** out here!” I walked out to the couch, where his drunken body lied.



“Didn't I tell you to feed the snake?!” he said pointing to his anaconda.



“Yes sir” I whispered, regretting my forgetfulness. He lifted his muscular arm and swooped his hand across my face. I whimpered, knowing if I screamed it would result in another smack. He grinned, “Maybe next time you won't be so damn stupid.” I nodded and ran to the bathroom.



I let tears mix in with the blood running down my cheek. The salt burned as it crept into the now swelling cuts. I grabbed a towel and wet it, wiping off the blood, leaving four long lines. I frowned. Why me? I thought.


I went back out to the garage. I looked at the map sitting on the toolbox. My eyes focused, looking around for somewhere to go. Then it hit me. There was a bridge just over a mile from where I lived. I shook my head, trying to remove the thought. Mom would be back from her business trip soon. Not that she cared or anything. I went back to my room, crawled under the covers, and cried myself to sleep.


I woke up early the next morning, knowing my step-dad would be hungover. I wrote a short note, And it read:

Dear Mom.
I apologize, but I can lie this way no longer. The pressure and abuse from your husband has taken too much of my life away from me. I sit in a hellhole waiting for rescue, but I never find any. So I'm sorry for leaving on such a bad note. But I don't belong here. I will always love you Mother.

Your little girl,
Jennifer.


I took one last look at the note. I licked it and put it into the mailbox. This was it. The end. I began my journey to my death.


Everywhere I looked, there seemed to be happiness. The golden sunflowers were blooming. The young children were happily smiling and suckling on their Popsicles. I missed the easier days, before dad left.

I had finally reached the bridge. Fingers trembling, I grabbed onto a pole. All of the sudden, a taxi pulled only yards away from me. “Jennifer?” Crap. It was my mother. I looked to her, tears in my eyes, and shouted “I love you”! I bent my knees, and took the leap to death.



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