This War That I Call Home

October 8, 2010
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I felt the tears make their way down my face. Streaming down, one after the other. I could feel them streaming down, but I could not see. The darkness that surrounded me was my stronghold. It was the only thing keeping me safe, the only barrier between me and the outside world. More importantly, the only barrier between me and him. Huddled in the corner, I could hear the screams and shouts. My mother’s sobs, begging him to stop rang throughout the house. I could hear him yelling, and I could clearly hear the sound of his fist connecting with her jaw. The sound of my baby brother crying in his crib was the most sickening. Just 5 months old, and already he has been forced to take on all of out baggage. I raised a hand to my cheek. My face was still swollen. I attempted to move my leg, but the pain was unbearable. It had been broken when he threw me down the stairs. I lay at the bottom of those stairs for hours, bleeding. Finally, when death approached me, He took me away. Oh how he loved to watch me suffer. I could hear the screams raging on. I picked up the gun he had left me with. I pointed it straight at my temple. It would be so easy, just pull the trigger. My hand were shaking.



And then than there was silence.





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JAZZYJENI said...
Nov. 17, 2010 at 1:13 am

HELYO

its me BABY

FREDDYS GIRL :)

I LOVE YOUR STORY

NEXT TIME YOU SEE ME

TELL ME HOW IT ENDS

 
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