Prolougue

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                                      Emilia
I lay on the cold
hard wood floor. My back aching from last nights beating. Jack my stepdad came home drunk AGAIN from work, and my mom somewhat recently started doing the same.
I head downstairs to make breakfast before. I decide on a simple plate of scrambled eggs and toast. I set the table just as I hear their footsteps from upstairs. I rush back into the basement before they see me. This is how my life had been for the last 8 years and I'm only 15. From what I can remember I was taken when I was 2 years old and I don't really remember much after that. The beatings started when I was ten but just got worse and worse over time. Over the years I've started it just not feel anything and I don't ever use my voice because I used to get punished for using it.
I guess I'm a selective mute if that's what you call it. 

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