Depression, love, and suicide.

Part 2

I heard footsteps going slowly up the stairs as I sat in my room. They were large, noisy, slow footsteps. I was afraid, and was sweating like no tomorrow. As the footsteps began to trail to my room I heard a bottle drop and break on the wooden floor of the upstairs. I began to panic as I sat in the corner of my darkened room. The footsteps had stopped for a short second until they started marching straight towards my broken, old door. As I watched the doorknob move, I began to get ready for the abuse that I was given every night.

"What the hell are you doing up this late!?" my dad yelled while holding a broken beer bottle in his hand.

"..." I panicked.

"You dumb shit! Get to bed you fucking worthless child!" he said.

He came towards me and slapped me with the broken beer bottle that he had in his right hand. I was bleeding so much and there were broken pieces of glass jabbed in my face from the bottle. I was bleeding more than ever.

"Why do you have to be such a worthless spoiled shit?" he said walking around my room.

He had stopped walking for a split second and had taken my most prized possession, the most special thing I had. My necklace I got from my mother when I was little. I loved it So much. Do much that I would even die for it in a instant no matter what.

"Ooh. What's this?" he said devilishly.

I didn't reply. I just sat there trying to use the best of my vision. I had got up and tried to take it from him but he pushed me onto the ground and threw the rest of the broken bottle at me. I tried getting the rest of the broken pieces off of my face but I didn't bother to care. I just wanted my necklace to be in a good condition. I screamed and ran up to him and punched him with all my might. He fell down to the ground. I heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. It was my mother. She pushed the door open and helped my dad. When my dad had gotten up From the help of my mother, he punched me and took my mom while dragging her downstairs probably to get abused as well. It was never ending. I just wanted to run away. Maybe I could... But if I did and my parents had found me it would only get me into more trouble than I had already been in. Why did my life have to be this way? I don't understand. I never did anything to deserve this kind of treatment that I had received from my parents. It was like I was their little toy that they could boss around. As I was thinking, I heard my mom screaming for him to stop hitting and yelling at her. I quickly ran down the stairs and helped her out. But as always he slammed me against the wall and choked me until I begged for mercy. What he was doing was No joke. He tried to kill me in every way he could think of. These are the tales of my drunk, abusive father.

He took me to the bathroom and ran the hot water. As I was panicking, He tried cutting me all over with a Sharp knife. I tried getting away, But there was no safe place to go. It was a small bathroom with nearly any space. I tried reaching for the doorknob but every time I did he looked back at me. It was impossible to escape. He came up close to my face and without no warning he took my arm and slit it with the knife he had. Then he took a drink of his beer and poured the rest on me.

"Looks like someone needs a bath" he chuckled.

I laid there in my own blood rushing down my arm. He was trying to kill me. The hot water, cuts, blood, and a very sharp knife. He was going to drown me. I had to hold my breath and last as long as I could. But I didn't know how to with all these cuts. They would burn like hell. As I was worrying too much the bathroom was foggy and the bathtub was filled with burning water. He dragged me and threw me in the bathtub making a large splash. The water had washed the blood But it didn't help the severe pain. My arms, face and the rest of my body were burning and I was screaming and crying for help. I couldn't take it. My dad left the bathroom and left me in the bathtub to die. But I wasn't going to die. I wouldn't let myself. I just had to stay strong and not thing of the pain. I tried getting out of the bathtub but I was weak. My arms were burning and that didn't help elevate myself out of the bathtub. I tried standing up but the floor in the tub was slippery I would've fell and hit my head on the faucet. I had no escape plan. I was trapped in the bathroom. I needed help.