Still Breathing

Is This Really Home?

When I get home, I hurry inside and go to my room before my father sees me. My dad beats me, only because he doesn't have anything or anyone to take his anger out on. He usually catches me, he makes me sit on a chair in the corner, and he takes a stick and hits me hard. If I try to run away, he changes his weapon of choice to something that hurts even worse than before. The next morning I'm weak and can barely move. Max ditches her last class so she can come home before dad does. She never has been beaten like I am. When I scream for help, she just smiles and talks about me while I'm lying in pain. She says she tells all of her friends that I drink and do drugs. I want to ask her why she hates me and why she hangs out with those kinds of people, but all she does is ask me why no one loves me anymore.

My mom will come home and make dinner for the four of us, but tells me to eat in my room. I can hear them talking about taking me back to the orphanage. When we're done eating, I turn off my lights and cry myself to sleep. You would think my mom would come into our rooms and kiss us goodnight, but that's not my family. My mom will go into Max's room and kiss her, but she always walks right past my room. I've never felt like my mom loved me. I wonder why they even adopted me in the first place. I just think they thought I would make a good slave.

When I wake up, I take a short shower so my dad doesn't bang on my door to tell me that I'm taking up all the hot water. After that I get dressed and grab my make up to cover up all the bruises and scars that show. If someone found out I'm being abused I tell them I was in some accident, like falling down some stairs. I don't want anyone to judge me anymore. I leave early so I can get to school on time. I walk because nobody on the bus likes me and my parents won't drive me because they don't even care about me. They're only happy when I'm not around.