June 29, 2008
Emily would sit in her room for hours crying. Staring out the window in the cold damp attic. Wondering why she had the life she was a prisoner in. Why her mom would beat her senseless, why every time she laid down her back would ache, why her legs were covered in black and blue spots, and why all her school friends seemed to be happy and feel safe at there own homes. Dinners were almost always skipped, since her mom was wasted by then. Feeling afraid of going into mom’s room was all to normal for Emily. The only person Emily could turn to when it seemed like nothing was right was her old rag doll named Abigail. She’s been with Emily for the 13 years of torture. At least she finally had someone or something to talk to. No one would talk to her at school. She was considered a freak, hurting herself to get attention. They knew nothing. They didn’t know what Emily had to go home to everyday. A drunk mother spiraling out of control as soon as she walked in the door, ordering her to do uncountable and impossible things at the ring of a bell. A helpless father just watching as Emily almost drowns in her own tears, watching as his little angel gets beat by the woman he used to love. The one he’s too scared to turn in. the one who has been hurting his darling daughter since she was able to walk. They didn’t know what it was like to be Emily. If only they knew. She doesn’t want sympathy. She just wants a helping hand. Abigail is almost no longer enough for Emily. She needs a person with answers. A person who can help her. A person who can help her mother. Emily’s teachers weren’t even a help. They wouldn’t turn suspicions into the police. They would just sit there and stare at Emily as she fell asleep in class and got countless detentions for staying in the bathroom, mostly crying hoping for an escape. Hoping for answers. Hoping to achieve her hopes and dreams. Finding someone who could help. She’s gone to her school nurse, and her principal, explaining to them her life of torture, of which neither of them believed. Emily was the girl that all the teachers would talk about in the teachers lounge while getting there morning coffee. They would say they are worried about how “Emily lies about her mother to get attention” They would call her a faker. Emily was all alone. She needed to find a way out of this nightmare. She needed to find a way to escape. Beatings were brutal and often. At least 3 or 4 times a day. Her mother would find different ways of torturing not just her, but her soul, her hope. Emily no longer felt pain. She no longer felt anything.

Her mother used to love her. She used to take her shopping, and out to lunch, like any other mother. She would pick her up from school to go on little last minute vacations. She was even the president of the PTA.
Everything was perfect. Then her mother lost her job and started drinking. It became a normal thing. It took about a year before the beatings started. One day Emily came home from school and as soon as she walked into the front door of their house, her mom hit her over the head with a frying pan. Emily laid there in crucial pain. Her mom just sat there and laughed. Emily pleaded for an answer from her mother, “why are you doing this?!” her mom just sat there with an evil smirk on her face. Emily just stayed there, her head bleeding. Her father walked in the front door baffled by his daughters injuries. Her mom lied and said she tripped over the doorstep and the ambulance was on the way. He just sat there holding his little girl’s hand pleading for help. This went on for about two weeks before father realized that mother was behind all the random bruises and scars. He made several tries to turn his wife in but she would just skip beatings before social services came so there was no sign of abuse. They told him there were nothing abnormal going on to his little girl. He did everything he could. After awhile he just gave up.

One night at about 12:30 when Emily was about 16, father woke Emily up and snuck her out to his car with bags already packed. They drove from Connecticut to California in a matter of days. Leaving mother with only the dog and Abigail. She finally escaped from her nightmare. She finally escaped from everything. She was free. She didn’t have to get beaten everyday by her drunken mother. She could achieve her goals and dreams and become who she wanted to be. And she could finally prove that she wasn’t a faker.

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LaLaTeenInk said...
Aug. 11, 2008 at 1:47 pm
Wow. This is really powerfull. It really makes you think about how lucky some of us really are. I trully enjoyed reading this piece. NICE JOB SARAH!!!!
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