Voices Unheard

Hello, my name is Fiona Gregory. I am 15 years old, I am an honored member of the Christian club, I am very interested in my Academics, I participate in all the clubs and sports that I can and I have many friends. Even though I seem like the ‘girl next door’, truthfully, I’m not. This is the story of my life… and death.

It all started when I was 13 years old. The roads were slick and my mother’s wheels were bare. All it took was one icy curve for the car to swerve and flip completely over. Who knew that one call could change your life?
That day, my mother and I had gotten into a spat that angered my father enough to where he hit my mother. Although he apologized and begged her to stay, she got her keys and drove away saying,
“If I’m not wanted here, I won’t stay any longer!” My father and I looked at each other, astonished. She spun out in blazed fury and was gone out of sight in a split second.
“Fiona, the roads are very slick and your mother is upset. Maybe we should go after her.” My father suggested.
“No dad, if we go after her, she will get more enraged and not only endanger herself, but us as well.” We both then sighed, glanced at each other and went inside.

Two hours had gone by with no word from my mother; I was beginning to worry. I stared at the ceiling for only a few moments longer before my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Yes, is this the home of the Gregory’s?” The voice answered back.

“Yes, yes it is. May I ask who is calling?” I questioned very politely.

“It seems as though Mrs. Gregory has gotten into a car accident today.” My heart stopped.

“Is she okay?” I asked, still bewildered by the news.

“I’m afraid she didn’t make it. She hit a patch of black ice; her wheels skid and she lost control of the car. I’m so sorry for your loss.” My jaw dropped and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t say anything at that point, so I just hung up the phone. I fell to my knees as the tears began to stream down my face. I then grabbed my chest, fell to the floor and cried for hours on end. It was my fault! I knew it! I was the one who told my father not to go after my mother; I was the one that argued with her before she left! This was my entire fault. I could imagine it in my mind, and it tore me apart. Her face when she hit the ice, the car tumbling over the hill, her dreaded screams; I could almost feel it! The worst feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. Then I knew; this would be the day where everything went from ‘Okay’ to ‘Bad’.

From that day on, my father began to beat me to dull his hidden anger (He thought it was my fault as well), though I would never show how it hurt me. I wanted to tell someone, but I loved my dad and I didn’t want to be taken away from him, neither did I want others to feel sorrow for me; So I played it off.

The bruises began to get worse when he started doing drugs, the depression; following. All of our money was being spent on my father getting high. Food in our house was always scarce. At this point, my hatred had begun to grow for my father…and for myself, I would always scream in my thoughts:

“If it weren’t for that stupid fight, mom would still be alive!” Though true, I know now that none of this was my fault. Normally my father would only hit me in places that could be covered by articles of clothing, but one day he lost his cool and hit me in the face. Ah, the dreadful day I came to school with a black eye. The lies I had to spew out, the twisting of my friend’s trust, all the make-up I had to use to try and cover it up; all un-necessary.


Eventually we ran out of money, stopping my father from doing drugs. This is when he stopped hitting me and started mentally abusing me. He would tell me things that no child should ever have to hear from her father. (Truth being, the beatings were easier to deal with.) That was the day that I began doing the unthinkable—I began to hurt myself. This is the one thing that my father couldn’t control, and I loved it! The rush of when the blade would hit my skin, it was perfect. I’ve never felt so alive!

Everyday I would wear longs sleeves to hide the scars, even in the summer. My classmates and teachers began to get suspicious of what I was doing and watched me closely. The whispers in the hall way, the silent gestures of hurtful words, I’ve never felt so alone.

The most worried of all was my friend Ember. Ember was a loner herself. The lingering names and gestures had attacked her as well. She thought she knew what I was going through, but it was way worse than what she could ever imagine.

“Fiona, will you come here for a moment?” She requested.

“Um, okay.” I replied, a little reluctant. I then walked over to the door way where she was standing.

“What’s going on with you lately?”

“What do you mean?” I questioned, obviously trying to hide my inner secrets. We had it out for a while before I finally broke down and told her…everything. I told her about my dad, about the cutting, about how my mother died and broke down crying on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through my hair and assured me that everything will be alright.

After that, I went home with Ember to spend the night; I just didn’t want to spend another night with my father alone. A couple hours of fun, movies and laughter, my father called.

“Hey sweetie, when are you planning on coming home?” He asked cheerfully, but obviously grinding his teeth. I knew what that meant. He was angry and he wanted someone to take it all out on.

“Tomorrow morning, tonight I just want to hang out with Ember and have a girl’s night.”

“But Fiona, I need you to come home tonight.” I was terrified.

“But da—“
“Don’t interrupt me. I want you home tonight and that is final! Get your stuff together and head home.”
“Yes father.” I then hung up the phone, got my stuff together and headed out the door.

“Fiona.” I turned around. “You don’t have to go! We can tell social services what has been going on and we can get a court order for you to live with us. It will be like we’re sisters.” She smiled.
“No Ember, I need to go home. I don’t want to be taken out of my home; it’s the only place I’ve ever known.” She then sighed and put her head down. I hugged her tightly and said, “Don’t worry about me Miss Ember,” I smiled. “Everything will be fine.” With tears in her eyes, she hugged me back and said,
“I hope so.”
What I didn’t know is that it really wouldn’t be. When I got home, my father was waiting at the door, switch in hand.
“What took you so long?” He commanded, slapping it to his hand.
“I stopped at a gas station to get something to drink.” I replied, showing him my Mt. Dew.
“You shouldn’t have stopped anywhere, I told you to walk straight home, end of story!” He yelled, furiously.
“I know, I’m sorry; I was just so—“
“I don’t want to hear it! This will be the end of your selfish attitude!” He screamed. As the words flew out of his mouth like pulsing daggers, I then knew… this was the day I was going to die. This was the day it was all over. Is life really that short? What will they say when I’m gone? Will they even care?
Days had passed, my body lay in a casket, made up and beautiful. The tears streamed over my body as they took one last look. Shocked faces and torn hearts lingered by my lifeless body. But the most horrifying was when He came by. I had no idea that He would be here! With tears streaming down His face, He falls to his knees.
“Why did it have to be her? Why couldn’t you have taken me?” He cried out to the heavens, His voice cracking, and His hands shaking.
“I’m here, I can see you!” I screamed. “Can you not hear me!? I’m fine! I’m in a better place. I will see you all again. Please don’t be upset over my absence… I am happy.” I screamed, lingering into a soft whisper. I looked at the floor where He was, my one true love.
Maybe I did have purpose; maybe my life was worthwhile. If only I could’ve seen this before… before it all. If only I had stayed at Ember’s house that night. If only I had let her call social services.
But to live is to feel, and to feel is pain. The afterlife is sanctuary compared to what I have encountered in my 15 years of life. The only thing I regret is not telling Him how I felt, not telling Him that I am in love with him. He was my sole purpose for living, and I forgot it all. I see no need in dwelling in the past. It is all over now. They will all soon forget about everything, I will be another lingering thought that they used to have. A forgotten memory if you will. At least now I know He was everything to me, all I ever needed… and now I know there was some truth in this all. I wasn’t as alone as I thought.





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