I Could Have Saved Her Life

March 10, 2008
By Emily Addis, Clarkston, MI

I watch from a distance as the girl sits on the bench.
The tears come at a steady pace as if they were rain.
She doesn’t care; she’s learned how to turn off her feelings.
Nothing can bring her down—
the tears don’t affect her anymore.
The bruises keep growing as the days get tougher.
“Stay strong,” I whisper to myself,
hoping she could hear.
She finally found a spot where she could get away from all the pain.
I want to help her.
I want to save her.
I want to give her a new home.
Her dad appears out of no where;
grabbing her by the arm.
She flinches at the tone of his voice.
“Thought you could get away, didn’t you?”
He slurs, showing the amount of
drinks he had consumed. By the look
on her face I knew she was in pain.
I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
Her dad drags her away—never to be seen again.
The next day on the front page was her name;
with a story of her mistreated life.
“She will truly be missed,”
I knew was a lie.
Keeping quiet and not saying a word;
I regret more than anything.
I could have made a difference.
I could have saved her life.

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