my kidnapper is my savior. /Billie Joe Armstrong/ DISCONTINUED

|one|

"you stupid whore. you can't do anything right." my stepfather slurred his drunken words into my ear as I cleaned the kitchen.

"go get me another beer." I ignored his words, trying to get the kitchen as clean as possible so I could go to my bedroom, where I'm semi-safe.

"DID YOU NOT HEAR ME, YOU FAT CUNT? GO GET ME ANOTHER BEER!" he yelled into my ear, punching my ribcage.

I groaned in pain, grabbing my side and running to the garage and grabbing a beer out of the spare fridge.

14 years ago, my father died. I was four years old, and I didn't know what death was.

6 years ago, my mother married an abusive alcoholic to help pay the bills.

my mom works. she's never here. when she is here, she gets abused. by him.

my stepfather makes me do everything. cook. clean. laundry. everything.

I had to drop out of highschool, because people were becoming suspicious of the marks on my body.

"Evelynn, honey?" I heard my mom yell from downstairs.

she came into my bedroom, faking a smile, and kissing my forehead before going back downstairs.

"tell that slut daughter of yours to go get us a carton of ciggies."

the walls are so paper thin, I can hear everything that makes a sound in this house.

I put on a hoodie to hide the bruises on my arms, got some cash, and left.

it takes about 20 minutes to walk to the corner store, so I put in earbuds, and blasted Nirvana.

15 minutes into my walk, I got a bad feeling, a dark red van was slowly approaching me.

I put my earbuds back in and began to speed walk. to be completely honest, I don't care if they take me. I don't care if they kill me. its better than living life in that hell hole.

and that's exactly what happened. two men in dark clothing and ski masks ran over to me, opened the van door, and threw me inside.

I didn't scream. I didn't fight for my life. I just let them take me.