My Life of Torture

Chapter 1

He looked at me, with blood red, angry, no, furious eyes; and he asked me: "What did you do?" I couldn't respond, I was too hurt, too weak to even do anything. He kicked my chest and asked me again, but louder and angrier this time: "WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?" I still couldn't answer, but he wouldn't stop until he got one, so me being my weak self, I put my head down and started to cry silently. Without making a sound, I couldn't anyway, I wouldn't let myself speak. I didn't want to go through the torture again if I said something I shouldn't have or said the wrong answer.

I don't know what happened to him, my father. He used to be so kind and loving, that is, until my mother left him; he broke and blamed it on me. I don't really know why he does though, neither do I know why sometimes I like it when he tortures me. I read a quote in a book from a song when I was little and it said: "I'm laughing, I'm crying, it feels like I'm dying." That's honestly how I feel, right now, when he tortures me, when I'm alone. So really just everyday of my life. Why don't I just run away? You may ask, well, he has me locked in the basement, with barely any food or water. He also sometimes has me chained up like a dog. So I don't really think I'm strong enough to get out of here. Even if I did, I've never, ever been outside since my mother left. I've only looked through the only window in the basement, for 8 years, it's too small for me to fit through. I tried. So anyway I wouldn't know my way to a police station, to tell them everything. I just hope this stops soon, but I know it won't. He'll keep doing it, until one of us dies or until someone finds us or finds out and tells the police.

So I better enjoy it while I can, right? All of the torture sometimes makes me think about life. What's it for? Why are we here? What's the point of being here if we are just going to die sooner or later? These are questions I don't have answers to. Hopefully someday I'll have answers.

But not today, today is the same as every other day, chains, whips and crumbs of food; not even a millimetre of water. I'll starve to death soon, if he doesn't kill me before that. I really hope I can get out of here, the sooner the better. I want to see the outside world, I want to feel the grass under my feet, the wind through my hair. But I'm also scared, I don't know if the other people are like my father, I really don't want that.

I really wanted to help my father when mother left, but as soon as I tried to, he blamed everything on me and started abusing and torturing me. Today was probably the worst day of torture that he has done to me, he almost killed me; he stabbed me in the stomach, let me tell you it hurt, and it still hurts like hell. But I somehow love the pain it's causing me, it reminds me that no one can be invincible and that I too can hurt him, not just physically but emotionally too. That's what I intend on doing tonight, a plan already forming in my head, when he comes to give me another beating for something I haven't done, like "a crime I haven't committed." I opened my mouth to say something and he looked at me with a raised eyebrow and a confused look before he said: "Gonna speak now are we?" I could only reply: "Yes, father." He nodded at me to continue, so that's what I did: "You know father, you are weak! Picking on and hitting your own defenceless daughter, instead of being a real man and fighting someone as strong or stronger than you! Or in this case, you can't fight your problems you just blame it all on your daughter!" I smirked as he hit me in the chest and I only chuckled darkly.

He looked at me and said: "How dare you?!" I simply looked at him with a blank expression and said: "This is fun, but at least I didn't leave you like mother did, right?! I've had to put up with your bullshit for 8 bloody years, you bastard!" I could tell he was breaking down, and finally he did. He broke down and started crying, dropping the keys. I grabbed them and freed myself, I picked up a knife, just in case. I ran out of the house, struggling because of the stab wound. But I ran to the nearest person I saw and they almost screamed when they saw me, especially with a knife, but when I collapsed to the ground, dropping the knife, she came over and saw that I needed help she picked me up heading towards the hospital and i told her that I needed to go to the police station first and she nodded talking me over to the police station.

When I got in, I stumbled to the desk and told them everything and showed them all the wounds and scars he gave me. The kind lady whose name was Lizzy, took me to the hospital and they treated my wounds as the police came in and told me that they had just arrested my father and that he is in jail. They also said that I would have to go to an orphanage unless I had anyone else to go to, which I didn't so I had to go to an orphanage and then go to high school.

I am currently at the orphanage talking to Zack, a boy only a year older than me, he's 14. I introduced myself, my name is Blair Williams, I am 13 years old and I'm currently an orphan...