Help...(DISCONTINUED)

*1*

Running. Fast. Than I turn around and there he is. My stepdad. Chasing me with a knife. No a machete with a white apron. And his dirty blonde hair is lose. As I ran I realized I'm barefoot in the cold, wet, damp room. I stopped to realize the room is endless. I look down at myself and realize that I'm also wearing my pjs from when I was 7. That was 10 years ago...but yet I still remember this moment. When...he....hurt me. Bad. I went to school the next day and the teacher didn't even notice the bruises on my arms and face. I was sore for days and no one cared. This was the day when my depression started.
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(Ten years ago)
It was Monday 2012 I woke up to my mom and stepdad fighting again...but it was different this time. I went into their bedroom and saw my father there instead of my stepfather. Then my father called me. "Sophia it isn't polite to eavesdrop on your parents conversations without them knowing." Blushing I came out and said "Good morning and I'm sorry for listening." They laughed and sent me to get dressed for school.

That night I came home to my mom fighting with my stepdad but I heard a loud POP! coming from the bedroom. I went to see what happened and I saw my father on the ground with a bullet wound in his head. He's dead. In the back of the room there is my mom..bloody. Also my stepfather in the back with her with a gun in his hand. As I stood there I knew I was going to get hurt but I couldn't move..It was like I was paralyzed. Like stone. Stuck in place. Thankfully my stepfather didn't see me, but after he shot my dad he turned to my mom. It was like she knew it was gonna happen but at the same time she didn't. He shot her. In the heart. My heart raced as I ran from the room to my room on the second floor.

An hour later my stepfather came to my room. I tried not to act scared but I let it slip through just a little bit. He came to me and told me we were going downstairs. I thought he was gonna kill me too but he did something worse. He took me and pushed me down the stairs into the basement, then he grabbed my arm and hit me in the face. Then he pulled me into a room and beat me.....hard. After he was finished he spoke to me. His cold tone boomed as he said " If you tell anyone about this I'll shoot you on the spot." From then on he beat me whenever he was drunk or was just mad. When people asked about my parents he would say " Why they have gone on a vacation to Ireland, they won't be back for a few months."

But the truth is he burned their bodies and had me clean everything that had blood on it. If there was a spot of blood on anything he would beat me. I just wished someone would help.