I woke up with a kick to the stomach. I looked around to find that once again I was surprised, even though I knew that we had run away. My twin sister, Ashleigha and I ran away from the Hell of a house that we lived in. Our parents were cruel people that always tortured their way into our minds. Leaving little shattered images of flickering sadness to corrode them. We were scarred, and eventually decided that we could run away. We escaped our abusement by the anger I felt when my father decided that he would hit my twin sister right in the face and I swear, if I knew the pain I would've felt before hand, I still wouldn't have done it any other way.
My father was a cruel man with facial features that were bird like. He had a long nose, dark skin, and hazel eyes that sent fear tickleing down your spine. My mother was more confusing, she seemed to like torturing us, but always brought herself into a child caring state. She always wants to hurt us, but never wants us to get hurt. She's odd and, similar to my life, crazy.
There is one pleasant memory I have with my father, and in the end he tried to drown me. He had taken me and my sister to swim and he was smiling, he looked so pleasant and happy, and my sister and I finally thought that we would get through, that we finally died and went to heaven! Maybe suffocated in our sleep! But we weren't so lucky. He took us in the water and suddenly, water filling our lungs! Drowning! Gasping for air! He had made us believe in false love.
My mother was screaming for him to stop, that he was actually going to kill us. After what felt like endless pain, eventually, he stopped. He let us breath. Then my mother smacked us. Hard. She told us if we were better people, better children, that we wouldn't get beaten. But the problem was that I believed her. I believed every stupid word that came out of her venomous mouth. And the day that my father smacked Ashleigha and something that I didn't know existed, snapped. "You idiot!" my father screamed smacking and beating my Ashleigha. He just kept going, and going, and going, and she was completely helpless. "Stop!" I screeched, and in a fit of rage I kicked him. I kicked him with such force that there was a slight cracking noise. Then out of my sudden strength, I tackled him, and somehow someway, I swiped my arm across the air as if smacking a fly, and his limp body follwed my will and into the wall. It felt almost like... like magic.
Eventually my mom pulled me off and both of my parents started beating me, my sister watching, crying. They stopped, mostly out of exhaustion, and spat on me as they walked back to their room. My sister and I curled up onto the floor crying, and eventually I decided that we were going to run away. I told Ashleigha about my plans, and she agreed. We opened the door, we didn't own anything so we just left. They must've heard the door opening because by the time we were half way through the gravel driveway they were screaming for us. We kept running, and all of the pain hit me all at once. The pain of losing my parents, the pain of the gravel cutting my feet because I don't own any shoes, the pain of seeing my sister being beaten. And I just felt the silent tears stream down my face, but I wouldn't stop. I couldn't stop.
