Slumber. A time for relief, a time for when anything is possible, A time to dream, a time to wish, a time to believe. I wish I could be in a forever slumber. Never having to wake, Never having any worries. No nightmares, just peaceful dreaming. But sadly, I'm stuck in reality.

          I don't believe people die, I believe they go into an internal sleep. Maybe it's just not being able to process death. Maybe that's why I call it sleep, a never ending one that is. That's what happened to my mom. She once was an active women, now she is sleeping beauty. She fell into that never ending sleep soon after I was born. I feel like I am to blame for her death. When I came, she went. My birth caused her 'death'. Or at least that's what I've been told. My parents loved each other very much. But when she decided to take a nap six feet under, my father fell apart.

         He was in denial for months, was never around. My aunt took care of me, for the first 5 years of my life. She became sick, my father took me back. My aunt didn't know he drank. Slurred words and wobbly movements, surrounded my life. With in a year after moving back, he began to blame me for Mom's rest. Forever rest. It started with words. 'You monster, you killed her' or 'this is your fault, I don't love you' filled my ears. Lullabies were replaced with anger. My nightmares and worst fears became my reality, when he began attacking me with his fist too. Scars and bruises all over, at the age of 10. Forced to keep a secret based off fear of the truth.

         What would happen if I told? What would he do? I kept to myself, never made any friends. Never had a boyfriend, never had a crush. Bullies are everywhere. Insults began in middle school. The pain the words caused, faded away my freshman year. I just focused on my grades, based everything on college. My one chance of escape, my only chance for anything. My dreams have sculpted my future. I know what I want, I want to be an author. I could write about my tragedies. It's now senior year. The bullies still harm, my father still drinks, his fist and my body still collide, and my tears still dry.

         I have still have no relationships of any kind. No published books based off my past. No family that cares. Nothing. Nothing but hope. Books are read whenever possible, stories are written. My hope is fading, my life is shortening. My hope and life are still there, but won't always be. Marks all over my body, some placed by father, yet some by words. Things I've been told add up. To relieve the stress and pain, cuts are made. Rib cage holding bruises. Temple holding cuts. Wrist holding writing, but only some people will understand.

         When will life get better? When will that forever release happen? Will either ever come

          I silently wait for something to happen. Something good to happen. My life is misery, it's hell. I'm waiting, waiting for anything better than this. Waiting for high school to end, so my dreams can begin. Waiting for my father to stop, stop his fist and his mouth. Waiting for someone, someone to rescue me. A friend is all I ask for. Love is all I dream for.
Does it get better? Can it get worse? I sure hope it doesn't get worse, I don't think I could manage that.

         Late nights spent reading, early mornings spent writing, days spent suffering. Thats the thing with life, you can never get a break. Something is always happening, good or bad. Sleep is only for release, it only gives you hope. I need all the sleep I can get. I must be prepared for what's to come, how else can I prepare besides sleep?

        I toss and turn, trying to absorb my last few minutes of slumber. The sun peaking it's way across the sky, the moon disappearing into the night. It's causing me to wake more than before. I can't help but think, 'why me'? My thoughts have kept me away from my dreams long enough. I try to brush off all the worries and problems, then sink myself further into my bed. Only to have more conflicts and possible solutions fill my head again. I decide to check the time, the clock reads 5:00. Great, I've had four hours of sleep. Only two left. I climb out of bed and make my way to my laptop. I continue typing my story. Typing away the pain, typing away the lack of proper sleep. The light shinning threw my window interrupted my writing. Wonderful, the sun is up.

        I make my way back into my bed. My haven. My only safe place. I feel my thoughts drain, only to feel sleep consume me. Finally, relief. I feel my whole body relax into my bed. Barely able to stay awake. Slumber takes over...

      "Wake up!" my father screams. My eyes open, I take in my surroundings. I sigh, realizing sleep is only a thought. Time to start the day. Time for more torturing hours of school, filled with rumors. Time for more scars. Time for reality.

      "Isabel!" 
        

            It begins.