𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

𝕆ℕ𝔼

Grace

"Get up you piece of shit." These were the words I was greeted with this morning by my dad. At least he's in a good mood because usually those words are followed by a punch in the face or him screaming profanities at me.

I quickly opened my eyes and jumped out of bed before he could return and this time with a bat. I walked into my bathroom discreetly trying to avoid bumping into my father. He has really bad mood swings too. He could be laughing his ass off one second and the next he's beating me up into a pulp.

Even after all of these years of him mistreating me like that, I haven't built up the courage to denounce him to the police because this is clearly abuse. I haven't done that because he wasn't like this my whole life. Behind this monster still lays my caring and gentle dad I had four years ago before my mom died.

We were the happiest family alive. Even struggling with money a bit, we couldn't be happier. Every day was filled with joy during my childhood but it soon came to a sudden end when my mom was diagnosed with a severe form of breast cancer.

My mom sadly died two months later. I was devastated but my dad was the one who was the most broken. He spent at least three weeks sobbing in his room still in grief while I was starting to regain my grip on life slowly.

It's only when I started high school that year that my life really took a turn. I walked into my new school excited to live a new experience and start fresh. However, from day one, I felt a weird vibe from the students around me. Wherever I walked, eyes stared judgingly at me followed by whispers. I never knew what their deal was and thought that it was just typical high school behavior until I had spent at least a month in the school without a single friend. Everyone would run away from me as if I carried a deadly disease and till this day, I never knew why people started acting this way towards me. I was new and knew nobody but it had seemed like everyone had already a judgment on me.

One day, I made a quick trip to the bathroom and was washing my hands when a group of boys marched in with a determined look on their faces. I was very confused as to why they were here, not to mention that it was the girl's bathroom. They all surrounded my terrified self and started shouting at me. I don't remember what they said but I then felt it. A burning sensation left on my cheek. It took me a while to realize that they just punched me. These boys who I've never spoken to in my life started to gang up on me and I was completely helpless. At a point, I fell to the ground and from there they started kicking me. I even saw a few girls walk in but none of them came to my aid.

That day, I left school utterly shattered and ready to run to my dad and cry to him but imagine my surprise when the first thing I felt when I opened the door, was a smack to the cheek. My first thought was that the group of boys followed me to my house. However, it wasn't them. Standing before me and looking down at me with disgust-filled eyes was my dad.

I couldn't believe it. That wasn't my dad. It was something else but not him. My dad would never lay a hand on his daughter. That day was one to remember, the day my life changed forever.

Now, today is my first day in eleventh grade. My last year in this awful school. Nothing has changed whatsoever. I still have no friends, I still get bullied and my dad still abuses me.

I have to say that I've gotten quite used to it. I have bruises almost everywhere on me but I've learned to numb the pain. It really helps me go through my day.

I quickly prepared myself for school and headed out the door unnoticed. This morning was a quiet one for some reason. I wouldn't complain, I rather start my year without noticeable bruises.

I took a seat on the bus and leaned my head on the window while watching buildings pass by. I live in Montreal, the fourth-largest French-speaking city in the world. How funny when I don't know a single word in French. The city is pretty average to me but in the point of view of a tourist, it might look fascinating. With the European like architecture, I couldn't deny that Montreal is beautiful but since I've been living here my whole life it's plain to me.