As I Want You to Be

The Beginning of it all

  That stale taste of iron in my mouth making it's way across my face as I held in the tears and screams each hit would cause. Every single time that I would look into the half broken, dirty, dusty mirror, I felt nothing but pure hatred for myself and would stare at my reflection of a worthless piece of meat that's been spared from death and given a life of hell.

  Ever since that crash on my mother's birthday, I've never been the same. We were on our way to mom's favorite restaurant across town. Dad was driving while mom was in the passenger seat, my older brother Kyle and I were sitting in the back. All I remember from that car drive was all of us singing along to "hold on," then in an instant all I heard were horns blaring so loud it felt like we were on a ferry, cars colliding, piercing screams bellowing inside the car and to my surprise one of those voices was mine.

  I woke up to my ears ringing so loud I couldn't manifest what was going on, only to know that I had a terrible pain striking at the middle of my abdomen. When I peered to where the pain was located, I couldn't comprehend what I saw. All I understood was that there was a piece of broken windshield stabbing me, I soon blacked out waking up to a bright, white, and sanitized room hearing the most terrible news in my life. After the accident took place I was left with a broken arm, severe injuries to my abdomen leaving a ghastly large scar going from my belly button to the top of my breasts, a broken ankle, fractured ribs and a tainted life. However, my father, being the one driving, did not have any severe injuries, but only a couple of scratches and cuts along his body. The doctor told me Kyle had suffered a blood clot in one of the hardest quadrant on the brain to reach, later dying on the operating table. My mother died from having a knife stabbing into her right thigh hitting an artery, leaving her to die at the scene.

  That was the worst day of my life and it all took place when I was 10, which was almost 6 years ago. I am now 16, entering sophomore year of my high school, left with an alcoholic and abusive father. He blames me for not paying attention to the road, he says he was to busy listening to my singing that he didn't see that semi across the street. I have many scars to make me remember all of the gory, ruthless, inexplicable beatings I took from the only one who was supposed to be there for me, nurture me, teach me right from wrong, and love me unconditionally.

  The monster I call "father" is now slapping me with his cold leather belt because I didn't do something he had asked, which was steal a pack of cigarettes from the corner store. "You are not worthy to carry my last name. Why did you survive instead of her or my son? You shouldn't be alive! I'll show you what hell feels like!" My father yelled at the top of his lungs only breaking because of the tears he soon developed after remembering that day. I was grateful for that brief moment of heartache as I bolted across the hallway, heading straight towards my room as I heard yelling. In those few seconds I felt the gravity in the earth grow heavy, I felt the hallway growing longer and larger as I ran through, and his thunderous footsteps not that far behind me feeling his fingertips gracefully missing my back as I stumble from falling down. I arrived at my door only to slam it and bolt it shut just a few seconds before he started beating on it. By now it was around 8 p.m and I grew weary every minute that passed waiting for him to just burst through my door, but after a few minutes, that turned into an hour, which turned into four, I got up from the floor and went to my bathroom to wash my day off. I started the shower as I peeled off my bloody clothes and threw them into a wastebasket I kept in the corner. Eyes shut, teeth clenched, I winced as the boiling hot water hit my wounds. After my shower I put on an oversized t-shirt with some shorts and laid down on my hard worn out bed. As I drifted into a vast sleep, the same question that's been on my mind since that day appeared again.
 
Why do I deserve living a life worse than hell?