Soul Spoken, Unheard Words

Old Me.

Dear 3 year old me,
You'll be taken from your mom and given to your dad, forced to stay with him without a choice to speak up about your opinion when you can't even speak just quite yet.
Dear 5 year old me,
It's been 2 years since you've seen your mother and you can't help but sit and wonder if she thinks about you like you do her. It's begun, He lays his hands on you every chance he gets while she sits and watches with a glass of pure red wine in her hand, she pours another one. It feels as though your trapped in a nightmare where the basement is alwaygs the most feared place. You don't fear spiders or clowns anymore  as much as you do the creaky wood staircase leading down to the dark cold room I like to call a dungeon. I'm Trapped.
Bloody noses and black eyes are your new make up, make up can't even cover what he made up. House maid. Cleans and cooks, left home alone for hours on end, you don't even have a childhood anymore, your not even treated like a child anymore.
Dear 7 year old me,
You finally get to leave that house of horrors. Taken to your Auntie and Uncles, rooming with your 5 cousins. Chaos.
New town, new house, new school, new friends, new life. Or so you would think.
Everything seems fine, everything is going well, your happy, secure, at home where you belong. Or so you thought.
The first night. He sneaks into your room while you should be asleep but you can't because you keep having bad dreams, dreams of the past, that you thought you forgot but only realized there just trapped in the back of your mind.
Dear 9 year old me,
2 years later and it still continues, He never fails to show up every night, bedroom door creaking, floors squeaking, you can't help but lay there and let it happen, you didn't cry anymore, just looked to your right to see your little cousin fast asleep in her bed wondering why she won't wake up, why she won't help, why she won't save me from the man she calls her dad.
Dear 11 year old me,
You finally come clean and tell your bestfriend, you promise to get help but only when you've had proof, proof of the pain, proof of the torture, proof of the man who waits at your door.
You go home, the cops show up, they tell you to pack a bag and they take you away from your home, the place you once had happiness, laughs, and love. But your mad, furious that she told when you said you would as soon as you could but you stop and realize, it's all over now, your finally free, you finally get to let go of the endless tears, and frequent bad dreams, your safe at last. Safe for good.
Dear present me,
You've over come a lot, I'm proud of you, there were so many times you wanted to give up, held a gun to your head and played Russian Rullete hoping the first trigger would end it all, Held a knife to your throat but never had the courage to cut, your here, and your fine. You have a mother who loves you, a father who you've forgiven, an abuser who locked away for life there's nothing to be scared of no more so stop running. You've lived life, Seen beautiful things, turned into a strong independent, fight for what you want type of girl. And I'm proud of you. You have so much ahead of you, don't let anybody bring you down, laugh in there face and prove them wrong, you WILL be something, you ARE something. Keep your head up baby girl, so your crown won't ever fall.