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Chapter Three

I'm ten now.

I don't smile as much as I use to. I find it hard to enjoy all the little things in life when I know it will be short lived. I try not to get my hopes up too much; it hurts more to expect something and get nothing, than to just "go with it".

I've took a liking to reading. It's soothing in a way. It seems to help me keep a leveled mind instead of letting my thoughts get to me. I'm constantly worrying about the "why's" of my life. It's always "why me?' , and "why cry", and so many more insecure thoughts run through my mind in such a short amount of time.

I'm failing gym, and it's not because I'm lazy. It's because I have belt marks engraved into my skin from previous nights. I find it harder and harder to hide them. I'm forced to wear shorts in gym and my legs are full of bruises I didn't deserve. It's hard to fail gym when all you do is play, but I'm always marked off for "dress code" issues; leaving me no choice but to run laps around the gym, in jeans, to bring my grade up.

Bad grades were not allowed at my house. Bad grades meant I was dumb. Even a B was frowned upon and resulted in hateful words.

I try to avoid any type of interaction with them in hopes they'll forget I was home. Some days I am successful but most days I am not.

Summers coming up soon. That was never good. I am forced to always be home. I don't have the any other family besides my mom, so I didn't have the luxury of going places. Most of the time I don't even have the luck to eat. I'd go days without anything to eat.

I lived in a house that looked like a shack. It barely had flooring, mostly covered up with carpet to create the illusion it was all there. I'd go without power or water for months causing summer nights to hot and almost unbearable, and winter was even worse. I would try to layer myself in blankets to keep warm, but it never kept me warm enough.

I felt helpless most of the time. I always felt like there has to be something I could do. I could barely tie my shoes, yet I was stressing like I was grown.

The truth is stress has no age. I was completely and utterly stressed. I was drained to the core of any type of energy I thought I had left. I wanted nothing more than to just sleep, but I couldn't, not today, Today was a bad day. I got home and was immediately greeted with screaming. One of the windows of my house were busted out, and I could see all the shattered pieces spread across the yard as if it was thrown there.

I debate turning around and never coming back. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I had every right to do so but what would I do. I'm ten, I would be brought right back and that would only increase the amount of torture I would endure.

I walk in, in just enough time to avoid a glass bowl flying past me. By the time I located the thrower this time I was being snatched up and asked a bunch of crazy questions that I couldn't answer. I was barely given time to think before I was being choked up against a wall by my mother.

It's hard to breathe, but she doesn't care. All she cares about is making me suffer. I claw at her hands hoping it would somehow convince her to let go of me and let me breathe. My heart was racing, I was scared, again.

She finally let go of me and I drop to the floor. I should've ran because the minute my tiny body hit the floor I was jerked up by my sandy brown hair. That would end up being another spot to try to cover my already thin hair with. I closed my eyes hoping I would be able to numb the pain. It didn't help much but it helped some, and some was always better than nothing. It made it bearable.

They were finally done with me hours later. I ran to the bathroom to examine the damage, but found it hard to see anything since we had no power.

I am soon able to lay in my bed which consisted of a folded up blanket and one pillow on the floor. It wasn't the best but it was better than nothing. After a long day I was thankful to see my bed. It's strange how this small and shitty thing could somehow bring me comfort.