"Untitled"

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It was just another day this morning when I woke up in the bathtub. This had become my new bed since my mother decided that I wasn’t good enough to sleep in a bed an actual bed. My father had passed away three years ago. He was my hero, my idol, and the only person that could keep me alive from mother. I was born an only child. I got out of the tub and put on my ripped up clothes that I had worn the day before. Mom said that she doesn’t want to waste her money on new clothes for something that shouldn’t even exist (in other words, me). As I put my dirty, ripped up shirt on, I realized that this wasn’t enough to cover the bruises that mom had threatened me about keeping covered. I wanted to somehow tell her so that maybe she would get me a different shirt or something warmer to wear because it was a blizzard outside, but I knew better then to wake her from her sleep when she had been drinking the night before. So I decided against it.
I started to walk outside when I got a gust of wind and snow to the face. I could feel my face burning from the cold air. I was almost positive that I was going to freeze that day on my way to school because I had barely any clothes on and not once have I ever owned a nice and warm winter coat. Plus, mom makes me walk to school every day because she’s too lazy to get out of bed to drive me there. I closed the door really quick. Almost too quick though. The door slammed and I could hear mom shuffling around in her bed. I did the one thing that I was told not to do. I woke her. I should have run out the door while I could because school seems to be the only escape from the beatings. I wanted to run and hide but all I could do is just stand there and shiver from fear. I knew what was about to happen. I waited there for a minute in silence trying to listen carefully for her footsteps but all I could hear was my stomach growling from lack of food. Mom rarely ever fed me and when she did it was very small portions at a time. It was just enough food to keep me alive but certainly not enough to keep me satisfied. I listened for another moment but heard nothing but her snoring. I was golden.
I opened the door slowly and walked out into the cold. I tucked my hands into my pockets and put my shirt over my nose to block out the snow. I walked for what seemed like forever until I finally reached the school. I was just in time for the final bell. I walked into the class and everybody stared. I could hear the other girls whispering about me. About how I was wearing the same clothes as I did yesterday and how I smelt like I hadn’t showered in months (in which I haven’t).

I slipped into my desk and listened to my teacher talk. I started to doze off because I hadn’t slept much the night before, until two policemen walked in. They went over to Mrs. Jones and whispered something. She looked at me and signaled me to go with the officers. My heart sunk. What had I done wrong this time? I never got into trouble. I got up nervously. I could feel everybody staring at me but I just put my head down and walked towards the men. They walked me out of the classroom and into the principal’s office. I sat down and they studied me up and down. “I’m Officer Smith and this is Officer Anders,” said one of the officers. I stared at them in silence. I could feel myself choking on my words. They stared back at me awkwardly. Finally, they asked me the question that mom had always trained me to answer correctly. “I tripped and fell,” I replied. They knew that this wasn’t correct, that I was hiding something from them and covering for my mother. Why was I covering for her anyways? They could see the sorrow in my eyes. Officer Smith looked at me and told me in a soft voice that it was going to be okay and that I could tell them anything but I still felt like I couldn’t talk to them about how much mom hated me and how she abused me.

I suddenly got really nervous. I knew that if I told them anything, I would get one hell of a beating tonight and that I would lose the only place that I had left to sleep and that’s the only thing that really matters to me right now. My next bed would be the floor in the garage with no blankets. I broke out in tears. The other police officer walked over to me and hugged me tightly. I had never felt any comfort before in my life so I kind of shoved him away from me. He backed off a little and waited for me to get done crying. A few sniffles later, I had collected myself and sat there in silence as they stared at me. “Are you ready to tell us now?” asked the police officer. I looked up at them. “She doesn’t want me. I’m her slave,” I said in a whispered voice. I could hear them gasping as I kept my head down. “That’s all we needed to know,” he said. “We will get it all taken care of. Don’t worry, son. You will be okay,” then they excused me from the principal’s office.

As I walked out of the principal’s office, I saw the one thing that I did not want to see right now, my mother. She was sitting in one of the chairs in the main office. Her eyes were hazed with anger and I could tell that she had been pretty tanked. I knew that spilling to the police officers about the bad things mom did to me was a very bad idea but I felt pressured. We made eye contact and I choked on my words. “I’m sorry,” I finally spit out and walked out of the office. I wondered what was going to happen to her and why was I sorry for what she had done? She deserved it anyways.

I went back to class in hope that they would put her away and I wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences tonight because I knew that they were going to be twice as bad. As I walked in, the whole class stared at me with such curious looks. I could tell that they were itching to ask me why I had to talk to cops but I didn’t want to explain to them. I felt like a badass in some sense. I felt like I should leave their questions unanswered because that would leave them wondering. I didn’t want to talk to anybody right now. I just wanted to get some rest. I laid my head down on my desk and replayed everything that just happened in my head because it felt like a dream. I was curious as to what was going to happen to mom. Was I finally free from abuse?
I went home that day to find my mom sitting on the couch. “Oh no,” I thought to myself. She looked at me with an evil look on her face. I knew I was going to be hurting for doing what I did today. She stood up, stomped towards me, grabbed me by the arm and dragged me towards the kitchen. I could smell the booze on her breath. We finally reached the kitchen and on the table was one of her sharp steak knives. “What are you going to do to me this time, mama?” I asked her, my voice shaking with fear. She didn’t say one word to me. Mom was fired up and ready to take it out on me. It was my fault, after all.

She grabbed the knife from the table and waved it in front of my face. “Will this make you think twice about ratting on me again?” she asked me and then jabbed it into my side. I let out a loud cry. My body screamed from the agonizing pain. I looked down to find the knife still in my side. She grabbed the handle and ripped it out quickly. The blood seeped from the huge gash that mother had left. I didn’t know whether to cry or try to be tough about it. My vision started to go blurry as I dropped to my knees, still holding my side. I curled up into a ball and put pressure on the deep cut hoping that this would relieve some of the pain and lighten the bleeding. I could see her staring at me and saying something but I couldn’t make out her words. All I could hear was the obnoxious ringing in my ears.

I brought my knees up closer to my body in hopes that it would relieve some of the pain but this did not work. The pain had traveled all the way throughout my body. I gritted my teeth and tried to get up but my body was too weak. Every time I attempted to get myself back on my own two feet, I only ended up back on the floor. My nerves were shot. My mind was racing. I didn’t know what to do but I did know that I needed an ambulance immediately. I tried to tell mom but “..all..9..1..” was the only thing that came out of my mouth. It was hard to breathe and even more challenging to talk. I was terrified. I tried reaching up for the phone but I was too weak. I could faintly hear mom laughing at my attempt to call for help. Suddenly, everything went numb. I could feel my eyes slowly starting to shut. I drifted off into a deep sleep in which I never woke up from.





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