January 14, 2013
I wake up to Alexis screaming, “Help me! Please. Help. ” I jump up from my bed, which is basically the dirty floor and a blanket smelling like dog piss, and cover her mouth. “Shush Alexis! Do you want to wake her?!” “I’m sowwy,” she replies, tears falling down her face “I had them dreams again, why why why why? She starts to bang her head on the wall, “Get out! Out you, out you!” My interpretations of “you” are that “you” are occurring nightmares, horrifying thoughts and memories. The bedroom door flew open and in walked Angela. “Awh, look at the baby cry,” she sneered. “Shut up or I am going to yank those trashy curls right out of your head!” Alexis became quiet and looked at her feet, crying softly. “Since you made the mistake of waking me up, there will be consequences,” she said giving us a wicked smile. Happy birthday to me.
Jan. 15, 2013
Angela left, giving me time to write. I’m keeping this journal so when I become the first women president or something, I can look back and remember I overcame all this shit. I am strong even if others say I’m weak. Anyway you my precious journal came into my possession when I found you at Dollar General. If I had a dollar I would have gladly paid for you, but I have nothing. It’s not my fault the clerk wasn’t paying attention. My name is Emma. I’m 14. I would be in 8th grade but it’s not like anybody cares so I just don’t go to school. I have what Angela calls repulsive stringy brown hair, eyes the color of diarrhea, chicken legs with a plain ugly face to match. My sister, Alexis, looks just like me. We look almost like identical twins even though she’s five years younger than me. And the fact that she is mentally retarded. She can’t help it; it’s my stupid dads fault. What is a dad supposed to be? The man of the house, the male parent who is there for you at all times, the father who makes the monsters go away, your best friend. Not a coward who drinks his life away, who touches you where you don’t want to be touched, who uses his hands and words to tear you down. Tells you that you are worthless and nothing but a mistake. He told me my mom (who I vaguely remember) left because of me, all at the age of 7. And worst of all, the thing I will never forgive him for, “accidently” dropping two year old Alexis on her head because she was crying. He ruined both of our lives and I don’t regret saying this: I’m happy he’s dead. He died two years ago in a car wreck. Angela said it was Alexis who killed him, driving him crazy that he hopped in the car and rammed into a tree. That’s what she told Alexis anyway, making Alexis severely depressed for a week which were Angela’s intentions all along. A week later Alexis was back to her stupid, happy self, not because she forgot (which she does a lot) but cause she hated that bastard too. Let me explain something about Angela. I hate her. It’s plain and simple. She hates us right back. She thrives, lives off, of our pain. She wants us to suffer physically and mentally every day. I can take her words flung at me though, its Alexis I’m scared for. She’s a drunk monster, bringing strange men into the house and coming up with endless, pointless and painful task for us two to finish. The rest of the town of Rollin sees her as a goddess. The woman her overcame her husband’s death, a single mother raising two unruly girls, a women who needs to be praised for every stupid little thing she does. It’s sickening. Speak of the devil, look who just pulled in. Time to hide you before the step mom sees you.
January, 22, 2013
It has been a week since I’ve seen you. Had to lie low for a while. Let me inform you on the “highlights” of my week. Alexis has a messed up arm. How? Angela. She got mad at Lexi for not finishing up her chores and locked her in the basement. Lexi can’t stand the dark. She threw a fit, and was banging on the door until Angela flung it open and shoved Lex, who then tumbled down the stairs. I begged step monster to take her to the hospital but she refused. I wrapped her arm up in some rags and I’m hoping for the best. I’m starving but all we have is beer and moldy stale food. I’m thinking of going into the neighbors trash can but am afraid of being caught. I made that mistake once and I will never do it again. It was two days since my last meal and the gnawing at my stomach threatening to consume me so I snuck into the O’Neil’s garbage can trying to find anything edible and guess who was watching from the window? Allie O’Neil. The spoiled little nuisance who loves watching us get punished. Her parents don’t pay attention to anything and they could have saved us from Angela but what do they care about what happens to us? They don’t. Anyhow, Allie saw me and went straight to mom and goes, “Emma was stealing! I saw her do it with my two eyes! It’s a sin and she’s going to go straight to hell!” Angela in her fake caring voice replies, “Thank you for telling me Allie. It’s such a blessing to have as a neighbor. I wish you were my daughter instead of these two.” And they began to laugh. Allie wouldn’t be laughing if she was the one who ended up being forced to eat dog crap that mom found on the street saying if I don’t she was going to make Alexis do it. It was revolting. I don’t feel like writing anymore.
