When She Was Put Back Together Again

Prologue

I was in my room, and I heard a scream from downstairs. I threw the book to the side, and ran as fast as my seven year old legs could carry me.

I stopped and hid behind the end of the hallway, as I heard my dad's voice. I couldn't exactly make out what he was saying, but I could tell it wasn't good.

He was yelling at my mom. I peaked my head around the corner, and saw that he was hitting her. I knew I was probably giving myself a death sentence, but I yelled anyway.

"Hey! Don't hurt her!" I balled my fists together, and stood up straight. Both my mother and father turned around. The light skin color I shared with my mom was bruised around her face, and her stormy grey eyes that we also shared were filled with fear.

My father on the other hand, was angry. His brown eyes radiated anger, and I saw in his left hand held a baseball bat.

I was furious. "What did you do to her!?" I demanded, ready to kill my dad. He walked towards me, slowly. Each step radiated a sound, that echoed through the house.

"No!" My mom yelled. She grabbed the back of his shirt, and he threw her to the side like it was nothing. I kept a brave face, a straight back, and my shoulders back, even though my fear was starting to kick in.

My fight or flight response was kicking in. "Mom!" I shouted. I ran over to where she had landed, and saw that she was trying to stand. "I'm alright." She said. I pushed a strand of her burgendy colored hair out of her face.

That's when I felt a sharp pain in my back. I scrambled backwards and stood. I rubbed my back, and felt something wet, and sticky. I looked at my hand, and saw blood.

I looked at my father, and saw blood on the baseball bat. Most likely mine. He hit me in the stomach, and sooner or later, I didn't feel anything.

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"He would yell, and say that I was worthless. That I had no place in the world, and that he hated me. He had tried to kill me on multiple occasions, and saying multiple times, that he wished I was dead."

I cleared my throat, and continued.
"This went on for seven years, until a friend at my school saw my back." I told the prosecutor. She was wearing a black work suit and heels. She was blond, and had blue eyes.

"And would that friend be in the court today?" She asked calmly. I nodded. "Yes, she's right there." I said, pointing to my friend Johanna, sitting near the back of the room with her mom.

"And would you and your mother's abuser be in this courtroom today?" She asked. Blinking away tears, I nodded and pointed to my dad, who was glaring at me.

"That would be all." I stepped down from the stand, and walked over to my mom.

My dad was found guilty on all charges, which I don't remember.