Depression, love, and suicide.

Part 1

"Give me the Damn phone" he says furiously.

I try to get away but everything's locked. I'm trapped. My dad starts to hit me and drag me upstairs. He pulls out a gun from his back pocket and points it straight towards my head.

"You either give me the phone or you fucking die!" he shouts.

I scream for help, But he punches me in the face multiple times. The neighbor's hear my scream while he hits me. The cops had finally came to rescue me.

"STOP! SOMEONE HELP!" I scream.

He punches me even more leaving me with a bloody face. Why doesn't he just pull the trigger? Did the gun not have any bullets in it? Was it used just to scare me? I didn't really know and I didn't want to find out. I didn't feel like dying, at least not now. My mom didn't really want to help even if he was abusing me. She would just sit back and watch it happen. While I looked at my dad with bloody, watery eyes, I heard footsteps rushing up the stairs and loud voices.

"OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT NOW!" the voices said from the other side of the door.

My dad had looked at the door and had shot me in the arm. Before the people on the other side could even get in, he threw the gun across the room, climbed out the window, and tried to escape. But as he tried to escape there were cops waiting outside just to make sure no one had sneaked out or at least tried too. I knew for sure he was out of luck. He climbed over the roof trying to find a safe and sneaky way to get down without being shot. The cops had busted the door open immediately and looked at the commotion he had caused. They didn't catch my dad but the cops outside hiding did.

"Someone get me an ambulance" one of the cops said.

Half of the cops that came up tried helping me up and half tried attacking my dad so that way he wouldn't escape and run away. I was having a hard time trying to do what the cops had told me to. I couldn't see out of both eyes. It was like my eyes had been washed out with water. I couldn't feel my arm due to the bullet that had been shot in me. I was bleeding non stop and bruises started to form on my face.

Once they finally had my dad under control the cops brought him up to me. I wonder why they had brought him upstairs again just to see me. They had him locked up in handcuffs and had thrown him on the floor.

"Was he the one who caused this all?" the cop had said. "Or was there another involved and we just didn't know?"

"Yes... It... was just my dad" I said struggling to talk.

"Has he been abusing you all throughout your life?" he said straight forward.

"Uh..." not knowing what to say.

"Well..." the cop said impatiently.

"Since I was five years old he has..."

"Okay then. That's all I needed to hear" he said.

I read the cops name tag on his policeman suite. His name was Peter Sherman. He pulled out his gun and pointed it towards my dad. All the cops had gathered around and right before my eyes got it's vision back, my dad had a gun to his head. My mother was screaming from behind to try and stop them. But the crew of cops had barricaded her way in.

"This is what he deserves" the cop said in a calming voice.

"NO!" I screamed.

"Yes?"

"Don't kill him!"

"Why not?"

"Just...don't" I said quietly.

My dad should thank me for bailing him out. Why had I done this? I'm so stupid. He's going to abuse me Even more.

"Okay then. Guess he's staying home. We don't have enough cells to put him in jail and we can't transport him to another jail. If anything happens to you call the police and we will be sure to clear up some space in the jail so he can stay there for a bit. But for right now he's going to have to stay here."

"Ok..." I said.

The cops had went downstairs and left. My dad slammed my door and went downstairs. I was afraid that he would start hitting me again. I don't know why he had done this. Maybe he was getting drunk and needed to take his anger out on me. The scent of beer had hit my face whenever he had yelled. I couldn't take it much more of this. I started to think suicidally as I sat in my room everyday for half the summer. I've never thought this way before. It was horrible. But if I was getting hit and abused a ton everyday it wasn't worth living. I got bullied for the way I looked at school. I had bruises everywhere and the teachers questioned me all the time. They tried to put me up for adoption because they thought I was getting abused at home which clearly isn't a lie. The cops would come to my house every time but they wouldn't do anything. They tried taking me but I wouldn't budge. I wasn't going anywhere and I wasn't going to be forced to go to a new family. I wasn't leaving my mom so she could get even more abused than she already had been. Thats probably why she never helps me when I get abused. She doesn't want to be hit, i don't really believe her. It was the worst feeling of all. I usually stopped my dad from hitting her. That's the main reason Why I had got hit by him. I hated when he was drunk. He attacked my mother and I constantly every...single...day. We both tried giving him the perfect life. But apparently that wasn't enough to meet his standards. My name is Katie Moons and this is My story.