Battle Scars

chapter 1 - pain

I'm left with nowhere else to turn. I always thought that the day I got out of juvie would be the best day of my life; I hoped to get into a safe foster home with parents that really love me, then I would get my little brother Jude out of that abusive house, and soon after our foster parents would adopt us and we'd be happy for once.

Instead I'm forced to live with the Schratter family. The mom, Cathy, seemed nice at first, until she decided to pay absolutely no attention to me- at all. Usually I wouldn't really care. But with her it's like I'm invisible. She's barely said a word to me since she explained the rules a few days ago when I first came here. At least she's around though. My foster father, Mark, is never home. he works 12 hours a day 6 days a week and even on Sunday's, is only home for dinner. After dinner, of course, he locks himself in his study and stares at a computer screen for hours. Their 17 year old son, Tyler, stays in his room almost all day. If he's not at school or eating, he's locked in his room doing who knows what.

Now I sit on my "bed" (more like a mattress with sheets) and trace my thumb over the scars on my wrist. I'll always remember first day I cut. I was with the Olmstead family; I was with Liam. No, I wasn't with him I just did it because of him.

I was only 14, I was confused and stupid, I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I started dating him. I still can't even believe that I would even consider being involved with a foster brother; especially one who's five years older than me. When you're so young though, I guess you fall too easily. He told me I was special and of course I believed him. When we watched movies, he held my hand so his parents wouldn't see, he kissed me when we were alone, he carried me to my room when I fell asleep on the couch, he even put candy bars in my back pack so I would think about him at school. Then one day, it wasn't a Cinderella story anymore. No It wasn't magical any longer, but it was a nightmare.

Mr. and Mrs. Olmstead were out the night it happened. He wanted to "take it to the next step" but when I told him I wasn't ready, he refused to listen. The next thing I knew I had had the worst night of my life. After I threatened to tell. He decided to threaten my life. He hit me only once that night, hard enough to bruise me, but that one hit lead up to multiple other beatings. I had to cover up my bruises with ten pounds of makeup everyday. Every time me and Liam fought, I told Jude to block out our yelling and my tears with music; he'd hide in his closet or sometimes under his bed and blast music in his ears until it was over. I always wished I could do the same.

The day me and Jude got kicked out of the Olmstead's was the night I got my first scar. It was the middle of the night when Mrs. Olmstead caught Liam kiss me. She got a whole different story than what really happened. That night Liam told he was sorry for what he did and that he loved me. His mom walked in right in time to see the kiss. No matter how many times I told her it wasn't my choice, she only seemed to care about her son's side of the story; I was "coming onto him" and that I kissed him.

The next morning I woke up to Mrs. Olmstead packing my bags and Mr. Olmstead packing Jude's.

"Hurry up and get ready. Bill's here for you two." She said. Bill is our social worker, whenever I saw him I was either in trouble or being kicked out of a foster home.

Across the hall I saw Jude standing right outside his door, watching Mr. Olmstead pack up all his clothes and the few pictures of our parents he had. Seeing his scared face was the hardest part about leaving. None of us had a clue where me and Jude would be dumped next. When I saw him cry, it broke my heart most. Knowing that there was nothing I could do and that I was the reason he was also being thrown out of this house..... It was just too much. I felt so guilty and I couldn't take it any longer, so I watched my wrists bleed.

My door opens and Cathy walks in, tearing my memories away. "You start school tomorrow. Get to sleep." before I even reply, she's gone. I'm starting at Anchor Beach High School tomorrow, a private school on the beach. I know no one. This should be fun.

I change out of my jeans and put on my black pajama bottoms, wearing the same tee shirt to bed that I was wearing all day. I slip into bed, but don't fall asleep as easily as I would like. No matter how hard I try to forget, my mind somehow travels back to Liam, that night, and the day we got kicked out. Soon I realize it's not Liam I'm worried about right now; it's Jude.

After the Olmstead house, we were fostered by a middle aged, divorced man. He used to hit me all the time, but one day he caught Jude wearing one of his ex-wives dresses and beat the crap out of him. When I saw him hurt Jude, I went a little crazy and tried to stop him. When it didn't work, I ran outside, grabbed a baseball bat and beat his previous car. He called the cops and told them I was crazy. He admitted he hit me but he said it was self defense. That day I was sent to juvie and Jude's still stuck in that house. I blame myself, if I had just calmed down and actually helped Jude, maybe neither o f us would be in this situation? No words can describe how guilty I feel. Without thinking, I reach under my thin pillow and pull out my old razor.