Dear Diary,
I guess I'll just spill my heart and soul onto these empty, sad pages. Fill them with hopes and dreams, destroyed with black ink and a young girl’s sprit. Well you want to know what happened today, don’t worry I'll tell you.
It was a delightful spring morning; a soft warm breeze kissed me good morning as the rays of the sun shone through my hair, almost making it look like it was glowing. I was happy, being alone made me happy that it sent chills up my spine. As I walked to school I realised that I had forgotten my earphones. How careless of me. So I turned back still absorping the sun’s natural beauty. I walked up to the front door and put my hand on the knob but did not open it. I heard voices, so I softly placed my ear to the door.
My mother was arguing with him. Well it sounded more like she was being abused. I zoned out everything around me and listened as hard as I could. "She doesn’t belong here; she is a waste of space, time and money. I need that money for, I mean, we need that money to argh... survive. Get rid of her already!" his voice filled with anger. I couldn’t stand this anymore. My body was taken over with rage. I bashed down the door with my foot. Racing inside, fists clinched. I was ready to kill him. I saw him standing there, screaming right into my mothers' face. I glared at him but my eyes were drawn to my mothers. Tears streamed down her face. She looked like a weak mouse running for cover, cowering underneath his power. As her eyes met mine she ran for her life. Sprinted past me but I never took my eyes away from him.
Yes I was scared, petrified, but my anger took control of me. I saw a thick wooden stick in the corner of my eye. In a spilt second I grabbed it, thoughts rushed through my mind of how to hurt him but I realised how much bigger he was and how much he could hurt without even trying. Then without hesitation I raised the stick up to my holding it horizontally. With much force and concentration, I lefted my knee up and through the stick breaking it in half. I dropped the two pieces to the ground still glaring sat him. I picked up my earphones from the coffee table and left. Without even closing the door.
I walked, didn’t run, not turning back once. I passed the corner and breathed deeply, bending over holding my chest, my heart racing a million miles an hour. I looked up slowly. Looking. Searching. For a single, tiny site of my mother. Nothing. She had vanished into thin air. I wanted to run and search for her but I had to get somewhere safe, school perhaps. I knew that she would have done the same. I just hoped she was safe…
Dear Diary,
I couldn’t bear to return home yesterday. Luckily I carry my dairy around with me everywhere. I know my mum there wouldn’t want to return to that horrid house, but she would anyway. She’s scarred, a coward. Wells she has put herself in that position, there’s nothing I can do to help her anymore. All I could do was help myself.
After school I vanished into the dark shadows of the gloomy wet afternoon. No one noticed, of course. I walked to my safe place. A place where no one could hurt you, somewhere you can be safe. Such a place could not exist, unless you search for it.
One day when I was 6 I went for a walk on a quiet autumn’s morning. I walked down a dead-end street with a lamppost the read “Gulliway Passage” and a red rose bush with a little bumble bee on one of the petals. Little did I know that the name of the street hid its own tale. I walked down the street, pacing myself, looking around eagerly. The street was lined with maple trees, a marvellous display of orange and red. Enchanted and dazed by the view I hadn’t realised that I had reached the end of the street. I had tripped over the curve and slid across the sidewalk. I had grazed my knees and elbows. I lifted my head up and saw another rose bush, but this rose bush had a hole in the ground, perfect for me to crawl through. So I did just that. I squished and pulled myself through the hole. Blinded by the sunlight I continued to crawl. It felt like the hole continued on forever and ever like a tunnel leading to a brand new city. But soon enough I had reached the end. I pulled my helpless, little body through the opening. At first I thought I was dreaming but I wasn’t. A beautiful garden with various flowers and tress stood before my eyes. To the left was a swing set wrapped with vines and a giant oak tree whose leaves were scattered across the ground. To the right a hedge with a small opening perfect for sitting and reading. The sun trying to brake through the trees reminded me that I must be going. I did not want to leave but I would return soon enough.
Each time I returned to the garden I felt safe. The trees and flowers listened to me when no one else did. They are my only true friends. But anyway I am here now and once again I feel safe. It’s starting to become a struggle to fit through the hole but because I'm skinny I can still manage to fit. I have brought many things to the garden over the years. Blankets, toys, books. I have built myself a little house out of fallen branches and leaves. It is a beautiful little cottage. I will stay here until I feel it is safe to leave. I don’t know when that will be…
