The Girl Who Kept fighting

Chapter one: Endless Cycle

Starving

Punches

Pain

Tears

Sleep

Nightmares

Awake

Starving

Work

School

Bullies

Starving

Work

Home

Repeat

The endless cycle.

Let's recap a little bit.

After my mom and brother died, my dad didn't stop hitting me, like he said he would. It's been 3 years and he's constantly blaming me for their death and continues to hit me. I don't blame him, I deserve, all the shit he does to me, and all the shit I do to myself.

I pay for our apartment, with the little money I get my dad his alcohol and food. Then there's the occasional $20 left over that I try to spend on the cheapest food, for myself, so I don't die. It gets really hard sometimes, scratch that all the time. I try to eat any food that I can find, unless it's from a bin.

When I found out about everything that happened, I made a silent promise to my brother, mom and myself, that I would try to fight, no matter what. I wouldn't give up again. But fighting is getting to hard, and I'm so close to making that same decision I made 3 years ago, but I have to keep fighting, for them.

After I got home from the hospital, dad made us leave everything behind. We moved from New York to California. I thought it would be a good fresh start. I was wrong, it all got worse.

Here I am now.

Awake after yet another nightmare. Except I was just reliving one of the worst moments in my life. These nightmare are always one of three things: Imagning how my family died, what he did to me, and lastly living the moment my dad became the man he is today, over and over again.

I usually try not to sleep because of these nightmares, but sometimes I have to sleep. It wont last long though, I'll get 4 hours max of sleep, then wake up.

I keep watching the time tick by until my clock hits 4:20am. Just one more minute, and finally.

I get up, wincing in pain, my brusies from yesturday's beating, still hurting like hell. Walking over to my dresser, I pick out a jumper and some black leggings, so I can cover up the bruises and my cuts. I move to my bathroom for a shower, it only lasts 2 minutes, I don't want a bigger water bill. As I get dressed, in pain, I look at my pale, boney, scarred figure in the mirror, and I thinkg of all my fuck ups, and how much of a disapointment I am. I cover up my face bruises with some make-up, so i don't draw to much attention to myself.

Don't you just love life. Not. My stomach rumbles, I want food, I haven't eaten in 4 days, dad found my secret stash of food, and ate it all, so I can't eat.

Walking quietly, in hopes not to wake up my dad, I make my way out the door, to my bike, I can't afford a car, so I have to ride to work and school everyday. Speaking of work, I look down at my watch. Shit. I'm late. Pedalling as fast as I can, i make my way to my job, where I make $12 an hour. It's not the best but, I was desperate. They let me work almost everyday, on week days I work 5-7:30am and 3-8pm, so I can go to school, and I work one weekend day from, 5am-9pm.

The place I work at is called, Realm Street Café, weird I know.

Anyways, getting of my bike, I enter the back way so that I can put on my weird at thing and apron. Putting on the 'uniform' I check the clock, 4:59am. Yay. Time to put on a fake smile and be nice to rude people.