Street Lights

Therapy Sucks

I remember most of my happy childhood. My dad was still living with us, we had anything you could imagine, and best of all, I was having the best time of my life. That all changed about 3 years ago. I remember the day exactly as it was. July 17th, 2014. The cops kicked our door down and came rushing in. They ran upstairs, where they then put my father in handcuffs and took him off to jail. After they left, I overheard my mother talking to the cops. Supposedly, my father had murdered a family of 3. I didn't believe it though. If he were to kill anyone it would've been my mother. They'd been fighting now for about a year and a half. How couldn't you? After being married for 12 years, I bet you'd be tired of one each other. That leads right back to me. I'm Elaine Brown. Blue eyes, dirty blonde hair. 5'5 tall. Sophomore at Leland High School, home of the Lions. Anyway, after they took away my dad, I basically spent the rest of my life in my bedroom. I rarely came out, except for school and meal time. I dreaded school. After all of the news headlines about my dad, I became known as "father's little psychotic bitch." My mother ended shipping me off to a therapist every other day. Luckily I got to walk home to avoid talking to my mother about "how the session went." On one particular day, I was walking home. It was late, session went longer this time. Something seemed off, almost as if I was being watched or followed. I turned to look for any sign of a person, but I failed to see anything that even resembled a person. I picked up my pace, now I felt even more worried. I began to run home. I only had 3 more blocks to go. I ran and ran. Then I stopped. Well, it was involuntarily. A tight grip was around my neck. I struggled to try to break free but the grip got harder. I screamed but that only lasted for a second or two. I felt the hand cover my mouth. It felt like a mans hand. Then from that point I remember being punched in the gut. Then, blackness.