The diary of suicide

I am fifteen, have no friends, an abusive step dad and a rubbish life, I wish I was dead.

The whole purpose of my life, is to die.

~~~

16th october 2011  7:00am - my birthday

Dear diary,

Its my fourteenth birthday today, good luck me... thanks for not sharing my secrets for an entire year! I will tell you later how it goes, bye for now! Wish me luck. <3

~~~

16th october 2011 10:43pm - the worst time in my life

Dear diary,

I know if anyone ever stumbles across this and attempts to read this entry, the words will be unreadable. I cant stop crying, or shaking. My step dad. He touched me, forced himself on top of me. I couldn't stop him, I tried, but he was too strong,he kissed me. He hit me, hard, until tears streamed like rivers from my bruised cheeks. He didnt stop, didnt move, he forced me onto my bed, knowing I couldnt scream, one of his oversized hands lay over my neck, he would kill me if I screamed. I know he would, he threatens mum all the time, I have told her to leave him, I know she doesnt love him, but she is to scared, he is too dangerous.

But he wouldnt move, I was helpless, and he raped me. It hurt so much, more than anything in my life, He hurt me, and was moaning in what soounded like pleasure, how could anyone do that? He wouldnt stop, or let me  move, or speak, or breath without being smacked harder. But I couldnt not breath, but each time I did he thought I was trying to get away, and would press harder on my neck. And when he was done he left me there, on my bed, hurting, alone, with nothing but taunting memories, ripped clothes, and a death threat. Diary, I know you wont share my secret, You are the only friend I have in this world. If I tell anyone else than you he will kill me, He doesn't make empty threats!

I scrubbed my skin with a flannel in the shower, my skin went red, so I knew any old skin has been scratched of, but I dont feel clean, I am dirty, and skanky, filthy, and all the other names he called me whilst...

He was in a bad mood with my mum, she cooked pasta instead of spagetti, wich she was  supposed to do. He has already hit her tonight, called her all the names under the sun. Her entire right side of her face is purple, in a disguisting, hand shaped bruise. And  clearly, punishing a defenceless house wife isnt enough, so he had to, hurt me too, mentally more than physically. But I have a bruise on my neck where he pinned me to my bed. Mum cant see that, I will have to where a turtle neck jumper tomorrow, to hide it.

This is the worst birthday in the world, thankyou for listening, diary, your the best friend I could have!

~~~

For the next year, my life got worse. Each night, my step dad would find ten minutes to sneak away from my mother to spend his "time" with me. He made sure, each time he would hurt me, bruise me in places he new wouldnt be seen by anyone, he knew I was to scared of him to tell anyone. I hate that he is so clever.

But as time went on he began, not only bruising me, but bringing a knife with him, and holding that up to my neck, also slicing my wrists with it, making it look like I was doing it to myself. At school, people just thought I was a freak, they noticed my scars, and my forever bruised face, but did nothing. The teachers didnt seem to notice, but the ones that did, and were curious, I told them what he had told me to say, nothing. So nothing happened. I received no help. So I remained in my private bubble. Blocking out the world.

My black hair grew out, down to my waist, wich I was thankful for, I felt I could hide behind it. It covered my body, a thin veil between me, and pain. The pain and terror that arrives each night to taunt me. Little helpless me. My fringe shielded my eyes from him. From everyone. A permanent wall, blocking any unwanted attention. I isolated myself. From the school. From the observant gaze of the curious. I shielded myself from him.