Three young ladies aged eighteen, all with the same type of horrid truth. All living lives no one even knows. Making up lies when asked what happened. All in pain each and every day, screaming inside for help. Never letting anyone know just how much help they are really in need of.
She ran, as fast as her little legs could take her. Blood dripping from her mouth, arms, and legs. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was finally eighteen and she had to get away. She wasn’t going to allow him to continue hurting her. Her mother could stay for all she cared. But one day she would go back for her. Hopefully it wouldn’t be to late. He was a monster, and by that time she might be dead.

A searing pain on her cheek as her face is pulled from the side it was just forcefully pushed too. Tears like a salty river flowing into the fresh cut on her face. She raises her hands to stop the fist from meeting her petite cheek once again. Pushing it back with the same force it came speeding toward her face with. Pushing the beast of a man standing in front of her away. She had finally mustered up enough courage and power to fight back. He grabbed her wrist but she was able to pull herself free before his giant hand wrapped fully around it.

She froze on the floor, as the blows kept coming. She lay hard as a stone waiting for them to cease. She knew that sadly might be a while. Her thoughts finally froze and she lay motionless and expressionless. The weak man kept on hitting and kicking. With all the force he could possibly emit. The old bruises turning new once again. Tears building in her eyes and beading as they fall down her freshly pinked cheek.

A bright smiling face welcomed Mirabella as she walked into the warm room. The first smile she had seen in months. The cuts on her lips, arms, and legs all bared. She wanted every one to see. She had to. They had to know just what she had endured all of her teen years. Her instinct to run and hide had failed. She had been found early in the morning that day before. She had to pay the price being brought back home. Even though she begged to be taken anywhere else.

The same bright smiling face welcomed Kiara as she walked into the same warm room Mirabella now sat in. Mirabella attempted to smile at the small girl walking inside. Kiara’s face was still gashed, but with stitches on both sides. It was nearly impossible for her to cover her face. She was shaking and freezing even though the room was like a sauna. She sat in the chair next to Mirabella after seeing her cuts bared too. She felt comfortable next to her. Her shaking stopped instantly.

Again, the same bright smiling face welcomed the last member in the group, Celia. Her bruises for the most part covered but some slightly showing on her legs and arms. The smiling lady happily guided her to her seat next to Kiara. She hesitantly took her seat shaking with fear and made a brave attempt to smile at the other two girls. When she noticed they smiled back and had battle scars to she calmed down. She rolled up her sleeves and allowed the others to see her scars and black and blue colored skin.

The woman introduced herself as Claire Macco. She was from Hawaii. She had long brunette hair and bright sparkling green eyes. Her skin was an olive tinted lightly tanned color. Her hair neatly put up in a curly bun. She spoke and her words were soft and kind. The girls all smiled and looked at each other. She politely asked them all to introduce them selves and tell at least one thing about them selves. Mirabella mustered up the courage to go first, just to get it over with.
“I’m Mirabella, I am eighteen years old, I am a senior in school and I love to run.”
Everyone responded with a friendly “Hi Mirabella.”
Kiara decided that she should go next.
“I’m Kiara, I am eighteen as well, I am senior and I used to dance.”
Everyone greeted her with the same respect as they did Mirabella with a “Hi, Kiara.”
Lastly, Celia went, shaking once again.
“Uh, hi…” she peeped up then trailed off. “I’m Celia, I’m eighteen, I’m a senior, and uh… I am really shy.” She squealed out to finish.
Everyone said hi to Celia. Claire looked about the room seeming to be in search of something to say. This was her first group. She was given the opportunity to lead one of her own after she finished and had exceled in her own group therapy. Finally she was able to talk.
“Would you beautiful ladies like to hear a story?”
In unison they all answered “yes.” Looking at each other in utter surprise.
“Okay, that’s great, I would love to tell you one. So let’s begin, there was once a young girl, about five years ago who was sitting in a small group just like you young ladies.” Claire started.
The girls sat staring in awe.
“She was petite, and naïve. She had a hard life, being forced out of her house and into a foster home when she was only sixteen. Then when able to move back in with her parents, her father started to drink heavily. He was a mean man when he drank. The poor girl ran back to her foster family time and time again. It was her sanctuary. When she finally got up the courage to stand up to her father he began to knit pick at her. He would point out all of her flaws, and then he would pick on her mother as well. The girl would get so upset and she would run out of the house and down the street, far, far away. When she would come back she wouldn’t speak. She would hide away in a locked room crying her eyes out.” She stopped, seeing the surprise in the girls faces fade into a depressed saddened look. As if they thought they knew where the story is going.
“Would you like to know what happened next to the girl?” Claire asked the wide eyes young girls. They all nodded in response.
“One night her dads knit picking got so bad that the girl began to harm herself. She would find any sharp object and take its cool hard blade straight to her soft bare skin. All in spots no one would ever see. One night distraught and unable to even function she ran to her foster home. There her foster mother pushed her to attend a meeting for teens dealing with alcoholic parents. The girl reluctantly decided to go. But not alone, her only stipulation was that her foster mother and sister had to go with her and sit through the meetings.” Claire paused. “And today, she is sitting in front of you, happy, healthy, and able to relate. I can help you to grow, help you to become stronger, and am able and willing to be your anchor when nothing else can be.” Claire finished and looked about the room. Mirabella looked in astonishment. Celia began to tear up. Kiara showed no emotion. The small bell on the door rang. Claire got up and walked to the door. Two small children held by a tall tan man walked in, behind him, an older looking woman with slight gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a taller sleek woman about a year or two older than Mirabella, Kiara, and Celia with sleek long brunette hair now stood in front of them.

Claire introduced them as her family. Her husband, Michael holding her daughter Kenzie and son Caden, her foster mother Leanne and her foster sister Leigha. Leigha walked over and hugged every single one of the girls in the group and smiled at them. For the first time in forever they didn’t want to run, hit, or freeze. They felt at peace. At home. They had met a family.