Strong

Prologue

July 12th 2007 - 13 years old

Phoebe

"NO!" I screamed on the top of my lungs as my so-called 'father' kicked me again in my stomach.

"THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR GOING OUT TO BUY BEER WHEN I ASKED YOU TO!" he yelled at me, while kicking me once again in the stomach, causing a giant bruise that I felt coming.

This is my life.

Everyday, I have to put with the same shit. My dad asks me to buy him beer, and if I don't, I he beats me to the point that I can't stand up, or even breath. My mom doesn't seem to care either. She'll just sit their and watch me get beaten, while smoking.

My 'father' isn't my actual father. He is my step-father. My real father died in a car accident. He was the best dad in the world. He was always there for me when I needed him. He would comfort me, sing me to sleep, and was just the best dad a girl could ask for. When he died, my world came crashing down. My mom was, sadly, always the same way. She always smoked, she always did drugs, and she always drank. My dad was afraid to divorce her because he didn't want her to get custody of me. He just put up with her.

But when he died, I knew that my life was over.

Literally 2 weeks after his funeral, my mom started dating somebody else. They met at a bar one night. She brought him home and they fucked with me in the house. I heard everything and it still haunts me to this day.

Then, they got married, and are making my life a living hell. I'm only 13 years old! I should be going to the mall with friends, watching movies with my family, and just having the time of my life, because I just became a teenager.

Nope.

My life is a living hell. I call my 'father' by his real name, which is Ben, because he will never be my father.

Ben uses his belt on me, and whips me until I'm laying in a blood bath. I have bruises all over my body because of him. He even rapes me.

I have made a promise to myself. No matter how much he hurts me, or how much pain he has caused me, I will always remain strong... and that's a promise I am willing to keep.

August 7th 2012 - 18 years old

Phoebe

I've just about had it.

Ever since I was 13 years old, the pain has never stopped. He still beats me, whips me, and rapes me.

Why?

Does he get joy out of making my life miserable? I guess so.

I've decided to run away from home. I am leaving my alcoholic parents behind. I am moving in with my grandparents, who was my dad parents. They're always there for me just like my dad was. That's where he got it from.

My grandma mailed me a plane ticket so I can get on the first plane to California in the morning. I live in New York by the way. Not the city, just the state.

My 'parents' are at a bar right now, so they probably won't be home until 4 o'clock in the morning. When they do come home, that's when the real beating happens. They are drunk as hell, and they just beat me for pleasure. Well, Ben beats me, while my 'mother' just watches and giggles while doing so.

I have to leave my house around midnight, so I won't be here when they come home. My flight is at 6AM. I have to leave early, because I can't running into them if they happen to come home early.

It just turned midnight, so I grabbed my suitcase, and climbed out of my window, because my 'parents' found a way to lock me in the house. But they forget that I have a giant window in my room that I can easily climb out of. Idiots.

I jumped down from my second story window, and started walking to the bus stop. I hate walking around at night, because I feel vulnerable to danger. I am an 18 year old girl walking around a night. If that's not vulnerable, then I don't know what is.

I made to the bus stop and waited. Luckily there was no one around. Or so that I could see.

The bus arrived and hopped on, handing my bus ticket to the bus driver. He took and gave me a little nod. I nodded back and took my seat on the bus. I looked around at the people on the bus. There was one guy who was sleeping with his mouth wide open and snoring as loud as he can. There was an old lady who looked dazed off as if she was in a trance. I saw a mom holding a baby, and the baby was crying like there was no tomorrow, and the mom didn't seem to care. Reminds me of my mom.

The bus finally arrived to the airport, and I hopped off, and made my way to the luggage check-in.

-

I made to my gate, but I had 5 hours to spare, because I got here to early. It's 1AM right now, and my flight is at 6AM. What am I supposed to do for 5 hours?

Eventually, I decided to fall asleep. I set an alarm to go off at 5:30, just in case I happen to sleep for those 5 hours.

I finally woke up, but it was only 4AM. I still had another 2 hours, but I wasn't even tired anymore.

-

6AM finally came and I boarded the plane. Luckily, I was in the first row, so I would be one of the first ones off the plane. Another lucky thing, is that I ended up getting the whole row to myself for the entire flight.

We landed after a 3 1/2 hour plane ride, and I met up with my grandparents.

"Hi grandma!" I smiled, and hugged her with all my might, happy that I finally get to hug someone.

"Hi sweetheart! I'm sorry about what you've been having to go through at home. But you're with us now. You're suffering is over!" she exclaimed.

I hope she was right.

June 18th 2016 - 22 years old

Phoebe

My grandma was right!

Ever since I moved in with her and grandpa, my life has gotten to much better. My bruises have healed too. But one thing will never heal. The fact that I lost my virginity to my own step-father. I wanted my first time to be with the one I love, and want to be with the for the rest of my life. But nope.

I graduated high school before I moved to California. But of course, my 'parents' didn't even bother coming to my graduation.

I'm now attending an online college. I thought it would be best for me, because I can still get a college diploma, but without going away to a college.

My past will always haunt me. I sometimes wake up screaming because I have a nightmare about them finding me. But I bet they don't even care. They probably didn't even notice that I left.

My name is Phoebe Winters...

...and this my story.

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