My Will To Live

CHAPTER 1- A Typical Day

"Ring!!" That dreaded bell had rung. That bell that always signified that it was the end to my save haven, and the beginning of hell. The beginning of the most dreaded time in every single day of my life.

The end of school.

In mere seconds , all I see are pupils rushing out of the classroom in joyous celebration of the end of the day. Now is the time to hang out , grab a smoothie, chill out, watch a video and relax before the stress of homework takes over.

And then now is also the time to go up to your cute boyfriend and chat with him, and bike around the park, do homework together, and finally take him to meet your parents.

Now is also the time to serve your after school detention, go to remedial and groan about how much of your time is wasted because of all this, and how you long to meet up with your boyfriend to bike around the park, or to go grab a smoothie with your friend.

I would give ANYTHING to do normal things like that.

But I cannot. I rush, pack my things quickly into my bag and leave , knowing that both Mother and Father would not be happy if I didn't turn up in time. I go to Nashville High, which is quite far from my house, which means I have to run all the way. Of course, between the weight of my school bag , as well as running , I trip, stumble and fall, bashing both my knees as I do. Typical.

I reach our front door, out of breath. My knees are painful and sore. They are bleeding. But this pain is not much compared to what my parents throw at me. Taking deep breaths, I ready myself for the worst, then knock lightly on the door.

"Where have you been, young lady??"

Mother's curt and cutting tone signifies the beginning of how bad today will be. Not good.

But of course, I know better than to answer "at school", in an innocent voice. I have tried. The results are excruciating .

Instead, I keep quiet.

"Get your miserable butt in here, then, c'mon!"

I go inside . I hear the sound of a whip cracking and know that I am in for it. Either that, or worse forms of torture.

"Late for the third time?" Father slurs.

"Well then! This time's punishment will not be easy!"

As usual. Another new "rule " added to the "system".

"Hold out your hand."

I have no choice but to oblige as Father brings the belt over and over again on my palm. I feel each stinging blow and flinch, but try not to cry. I must not cry. I must not. They will never ever break me like that.

"Not pain enough eh?" Mother sneers.

"Someday, I'll be, big enough so you can't hit me." I mutter the lyrics of "Mean" by my favorite artist under my breath as Mother begins to whip . The whip draws blood.

"What's that?" She says .

"All you are..is...mean." I mumble that through gritted teeth.

"How many times must I ask? You keep your mouth quiet when you are facing your punishment!"

With that, Mother pulls me up by the collar and slams my head against the wall. For a moment, the world begins to spin, then returns to normal. She leans her face so close, I can smell her breath.

"You don't do that ever again, is that clear?"

"Yes Mother." I answer meekly.

She slams me against the wall again, then leaves. My hands feel like they're on fire and I can feel a migraine coming on. All I can think of to make myself stand up , is the words in Taylor Swift's "Mean" lyrics.

That someday, one day, I would actually be big enough. That they won't be able to hit me. It's what is keeping me alive , and the fact that I'm not the only one feeling like I am alone. Her songs were my refuge . They took me to places like fairytales, or my fantasy world. It was a comfort to know that someone, somewhere out there also felt pain too. And that someone was still able to stand strong. Despite the pain. She'd made it out alive, even though she may have a perfect family, she'd made it out of love's pain alive, so why couldn't I do it too?? That was the hope I held in to.

I barely make it to my bedroom before the tears come, because, I'm sure even someone like Taylor Swift cries in moments of pain .

As I arrive in my bedroom, I find myself contemplating suicide for probably the hundredth time. Except this time, I feel that it really is my final decision .

Ending my life .... It was so much easier then to try and survive this madhouse.

"Hold on, baby you're losing it. The water 's high, you're jumping into it and letting go, and no one knows ...

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone, and you might....

Not be the golden one...

But you're tied together with a smile and you're coming undone..."

Taylor Swift's Tied Together With a Smile. She was there again. Reminding me that at least someone else knew I was crying in the dark. Taylor Swift was telling me to hold on. She was telling me that I could hold on. That there was hope . And then, I knew, just knew that I could survive.

Then my bedroom door was thrust open.

Revealing my mother, standing there.

She pushed me up against the wall again. I knew it. She was angry. I didn't care for whatever reason . She must have gone out when I didn't notice. Someone must have riled her.

"You know, if you weren't born , my life won't be so hard, worm. What the *blank blank blankety blankety blank * was I thinking? To marry a man, and give up on my freedom? I'll have you know child, that you were born out of wedlock. You were never my first choice, and you never will be. You're just a *blankety blank* girl ruining my life, is what you are. "

She paused for a minute. Then she took out her lighter. I began to back up against the wall. In fear.

"Sometimes , I wonder why do I even bother to raise you. But, then I remember that that's the only thing to keep your father with me. So don't think that you are my one and only child and all that nonsense. You are only a tool for my love , you hear me? Only a tool."

She ran the lighter along the length of my arm. It was lit up. I flinched back as she did it. But she only let it remain there a little. It raised a blister. She didn't want anyone to suspect her of child abuse.

"If you rattle, you know what will happen." She slammed the door and left. I knew what would happen. She threatened to stab me and leave me for death if I rattled. I knew not to take it as an empty threat. If my mom could very well burn me and not feel upset, what's to stop her from killing me?