The Sad Stories

Beaten

The Song is called Concrete Angel by Martina McBride
This story is based on the song.

It's supposed to sound like a reflection in the past, a narrator to a memory. The character is a elementary school boy, (because that's how I wrote the story) but if you really want, you can change it.
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I got up and looked out my window. She was there today! I opened my window, and saw that she was at her window, also opening it. I smiled at her, and she giggled. I loved talking with her. We talked almost every night, but when we didn't, there was always shouting, and smacking sounds. Whenever I asked though, she would just say it was a movie, she fell down, or just shook her head. I wanted to know, but what else could I do? After awhile, I wished her goodnight, and closed my window. I climbed back into bed, and drifted off to sleep.

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I walked out of the classroom, excited. I would be able to talk to her again today! We would be meeting on the playground. I made my way there and found her sitting on a bench. I walked over, and plopped myself on it. She looked over at me, and smiled. I smiled back, and we started talking again. I noticed a purple bruise on her arm, but brushed it off. I've asked her about them before, and she's never answered. As we kept talking, my parents eventually came to pick me up, and I wished her goodbye. She waved sadly at me, saying bye also.

That moment I guessed she was waving sadly because she didn't want to stop talking.
I just didn't see the longing in her eyes at that moment.

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That night I talked to her again, but her mom found out, and started yelling at her, holding both her arms tightly and shaking her. I watched the scene in horror, and one horrified step at a time talking me backwards. By the time I came to my senses, I was too late. I had already saw the scene, her mother taking her aside, away from the window. I still saw the shadow though, a larger shadow hitting a smaller shadow. The dots connected in my mind, and I raced for the home phone, calling 911.

By the time they got there though, it was too late.

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I stared at the yellow tape in shock. I knew something bad was happening. 'I did do something right, right? She didn't so anything bad, so why was there yellow tape? It must've been for the bad guys, right? Yeah...' These were my childish thoughts at the time, but during my thoughts, I happened to catch a stretcher with a white garbage-like bag on it.

I didn't know what was in the 'garbage bag' was the most beautiful thing that was thrown away.

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I stood at her grave, not crying. I couldn't cry for a stranger, I person who I thought I knew. We liked to talk, we liked to hang out together, yes, but I couldn't say it knew a person that had such a troubling life. I just wanted her to come back, to pop out and say "Haha, fooled ya!" To be able to talk like we used to, to not be, be... To not be gone. As we were leaving, I looked back at her grave one more time, and let one tear fall down my face.

'Angela Carter

The whole hearted girl who didn't get to learn what the meaning of life was.'

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I want to tell you all something.
Child Abuse is reported every 10 seconds.

... That's awful, isn't it?
I love my family, I hope you can say the same.
I care for you all, and if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I'm here.
Please, don't hesitate to tell someone, or me.
If your in pain, tell someone, don't keep it inside. It comes to bite you in the ass, two times harder.
... I would know

I love you all.
JazminTea123