The Innocent Girl

Chapter 1

What is the meaning of life? Or what is the meaning of my life? It has been jumbled around like a jigsaw puzzle ever since my parents left me.
I've never felt like being invisible before, so I guess this is how it feels. Every second of your life being someone else's shadow. Living under a dictator, ordering your life around like a pack of slaves.
Yes. That's what I feel like. I feel like a slave. A slave in my own home. A slave to nothing. Nothing but time itself. I feel like a slave. If I don't do as I'm told straight away, either my mother or father will come for me and abuse me.
It's not as bad as it sounds, it's... it's... just a few slaps and punches... and kicks.
Anyway, I'm expressing myself now with one purpley yellow eye, a blood stained nose, a footprint shape engraved in my stomach, and a few cuts on my legs. They'll heal eventually. They healed before, they'll heal again. Last time it took a few months for the bruises as big as dog legs on my arms to heal.
My room is looking as glum as ever, with the black wallpaper trickling down the dusty underlayer towards my faded purple carpet. My wooden frame bed can just about hold my weight.
Apart from my bed, the only furniture I have in my room is a wardrobe painted a rich, mahogany brown colour, an abandoned bookshelf with nothing but mould growing on it, and a two-legged chair holding on in the corner by my door.

If anyone knew how my parents treated me, they would be arrested in a finger click. But because I'm threatened with unimaginable consequences, I can't tell anyone. Not that I have any friends that is. No one wants to know a girl like me.
I have been hiding away as quiet as a dust particle for around seven years now. I don't know how long it will be until I crack.