It was early in the morning, and as I looked out my window I saw the same sight I usually see. The fog was slowly drifting over the green hills of Manchester. As if right on queue, a little blue bird I called Dawn flew to my window waiting for his morning seeds. I named the bird Dawn because he always comes to the window in the morning. I don’t remember the first time I saw him, but he kept coming back. Sometimes I let him fly in my room for a bit when my father is out. When Dusk left, I went to my wardrobe to get dressed. I slowly walked over to my mirror trying not to make the floor creak. Feeling satisfied with my appearance, I quietly and carefully left my room. Finally I made it down the stairs making little noise. I grabbed an apple and left for school.

The school was not far from my house, so I walked. Slowly walking down the gravel road, I saw children of all ages running and having fun. Suddenly get pushed out of my trance as I fall on the rough rocks. “Watch where you’re going!” one of my bullies said.

I gently got up trying, not to hurt myself again. The day went by pretty quickly. A few insults were thrown at me like, “Tosser!” or,  “Stupid.” As soon as I got dismissed I bolted towards home in fear that my father would be cross.

I ran fast up my cobblestone driveway only slowing down when I reach the door. A million thoughts ran through my head as I turned the doorknob. Finally I opened the door only to be greeted by the stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke. “Great, just great.” I thought in my head, “It’s only 15:00 and he is already out of it.” Because the stairs in the house were really noisy, I run up them as quickly as possible to get it over with. I hoped that my father did not wake up or else I would be in trouble. When I arrived in my room I waited to see if I heard a noise then I started on my schoolwork. I loved the feeling of the pencil in my hand as it glides across the paper, but that didn’t last long because suddenly I heard a loud voice screaming my name. “Eleanor, get down here right now!” My father screamed.

I knew not to make my dad wait because it is evident that he was angry, so I immediately ran down the stairs. Moving quickly I felt my feet loudly hitting against the dark wood boards. The second I got on the first floor, I instantly felt a stinging sensation going through my right cheek. I looked up to see my father standing over me with a menacing look on his face and a scent of alcohol emerging from his mouth.

“Yes father, you called me?” I said in a quivering but confident voice, for I didn’t want to upset him.
Apparently my voice only made him mad because the next thing I know I felt my feet get pushed out from below me as I hit our hard wood floors.

“Don’t talk to me like that, you worthless piece of crap!” he bellowed while kicking me, “I have been working all day and this is how you repay me!”

“Sorry father, I will be more understanding.” I softly replied while lying in pain on the floor. I expected him to keep up his actions, but I heard him stomp away while shouting, “Go to your room and don’t come out till tomorrow!”

Being careful not to injure myself more, I slowly made my way back up stairs. I moved like a snail dragging my feet to my destination. It probably took me about 2 minutes to get to my bed where I collapsed and stared up at the white ceiling. I didn’t care that bruises and marks were developing on my skin.

I didn’t know why my father did these things to me, yet it felt like it’s been going on forever. My father really had no reason to be cross, for he had a wonderful job that was passed down from his family. I might be wrong, but I think this started when I was 6 after my mother died. Recently I had my 10th birthday and I celebrated with myself. A few days before, I researched the future effect of children who are abused during childhood. The results were kind of scary; it said that most children who experienced an abusive childhood would act violently towards their children. Seeing that my father is part of a family business and that it’s close to home, I would have a tough time escaping. I knew that when I grew up I would go to uni and get a good job away from my fathers business. I would branch off from my family’s expectations and start my own life. After that I would start a family and I knew for sure that I will not treat my children the way my father treated me. The next thing I knew I am asleep. I guess that I thought too much for a ten year old, for it made me tired. Tomorrow I hoped that something in my fathers messed of brain would make him realize that he was being mean. “If a child washes his hands he could eat with kings.”