She sits on her bed, her head in her knees and she can’t figure out what happened. Her parents are fighting and she tries to run away. Hiding doesn’t help; they find her anyway and nothing can stop them. She wakes up as sore as can be. It hurts to walk and it hurts to cry. She tries to hide the bruises as best as she can. The bruises are to dark, her skin is to light. She tries to fight the tears as they tumble down her face. She has had her heart broken so many times, the things people take for granted is amazing to her. She has almost nothing: one dress, one shirt, and one old pair of jeans. Her teachers notice, but they keep it to themselves. One boy wonders what is going on when she cries, but he does not ask, he does not want to hurt her more than she already is. He hears the screams in the middle of the night, he can’t see anything, but he waits until it’s done. When his dad takes him to school the next day, he gets the news. All of his questions make his dad cry even harder. “I’m sorry, but she’s not coming back.” He does not understand, but wonders why she is not there to comfort him.
March 18, 2009