Of Doubt, Hope and Trust ✔

Mood music- 'Elastic Heart' by Sia featuring The Weeknd

Warning- Possible abuse trigger

I awake, unsure of my surroundings, and look around. Then I remember where I am and my heart leaps into my mouth.

"No!" I attempt to yell, but nothing escapes my mouth except for a dry squeak. Even a rat could do better.

There seem to be no exits in view except for a door with peeling orange paint and a window with just enough space between the bars for me to squiggle out through. The place I've been ill-fated to call home.

I race to the window as fast I can on my injured calf and sprained ankle and attempt to hoist myself through, ignoring the pain that shoots up my limbs. I'm certain I have more broken bones.

I almost sigh in relief at being out when a hand grabs me by my neck and pulls me back through the bars, well, tries to. I struggle against the bars, kick the hand and bite it and try to pry it off me, none of them succeeding as it finally pulls me in, something digging in my arm.

I'm thrown down on the floor and I prepare for the very worst so far, exceeding my wildest dreams.

"How dare you? You brought the worst upon yourself, missy!" a high pitched shriek resounds shrilly in the small room.

I open my mouth to apologize and beg for my life but she cuts me off by stepping on my windpipe, her high heeled shoe cold and hard against my neck.

"You know I do this for your best, but you still make me treat you worse. Why do you do this? You better resort to the person you should be, and you will be treated like a human again. Until then, even dogs will be treated better than you!"

She adds pressure on my neck until my mouth is wide open, desperately trying to make up for the insufficient air supply to my lungs. Laughing like a maniac, she shifts her feet so she's standing right over me.

"Listen to me very closely. You are straight and that's it. Own up, and behave, or else, you're going to get worse than you can ever imagine. I'm not joking around, and I mean it," she snarls, gritting her teeth together.

"Please!" I cry out, the pain in my chest and abdomen turning unbearable.

"Just three words. Spit 'em out!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not into boys."

"Wrong answer!" she yells, grinding her stiletto further into my solar plexus.

"Please stop!" I gasp, desperately in need of air supply to my lungs.

"Okay, but it's definitely worse once you get home after school, and I mean it!"

I run for the bathroom and race to get ready to be away from her as soon as I can. I love her so much, but this is just far too unbearable.

All day long at school, I desperately try to formulate some plan to get out of what's waiting for me. Teachers and other students shoot me puzzled looks but don't question anything.

All too soon, it's time to go home and I drag my feet on the painful walk home but I still reach far too soon. There's no way I can not go home, because she'll make it even worse then.

I'm greeted by a half ajar door. No, she's ready! I back off when I see her emerge from within with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other.

"Now, now, come on in, dear," she says sweetly. Maybe our neighbors are watching at the moment, so she's being extra sweet. No one knows what she does except for the two of us.