20/02/09
Well I'm not really sure how to begin this. I mean I guess I could do it like everyone else does and then start blabbing about myself. I'm not really one to follow the crowds though. But I suppose I could make an exception just this once.
Dear Diary,
I'm Elise. I'm fifteen years young. I have long wavy brown hair which never wants to be straightened, light blue eyes, pale skin; thanks to my heritage and an average figure.
When I was younger I wanted to be a forensic scientist. I can remember running around with my science kit and trying all sorts of experiments with things I could find in our garden. I thought I amazing, I could cure all sorts of sicknesses with my special glass viles. Never once did any of my patients complain. But then again that was probably because they were dolls.
As I got older I decided I wanted to be a fameous dancer. I guess you could say I'm a small girl with big dreams. I have an amazing best friend Amy. I'm always at her house listening to music or watching movies. Did I mention I'm a total nerd? I'm not very popular but I guess I like it that way. I can imagine the pressure that comes with being popular like the girls at my school. Always having to look good, always having to be perfect. It's all about image and honestly I don't care who I come off as. I'm just happy being me. Strange, awkward, nerdy....me.
So I suppose this is the part where I write about my amazing family and how perfect we all are. The truth is my family has always been kind a far cry from perfect. My Mum divorced my Dad when I was about three years old. We moved to this town into the only house she could afford at the time. Things were pretty good for a while...Then she met the neighbour. Cue drug addicted, pot smoking, violent, alcoholic. I'm not sure why, but she fell for him. Not long after he moved in and became my worst nightmare. 12 years of abuse, neglect, violence and depression. That was 12 years of my life or well I like to call it hell on earth. I can remember being thrown against walls, getting death threats every day, being called everything and anything other than my own name, being blamed for other peoples mistakes, and being ignored and violated. I have many scars now to show for those 12 years. They're kind of like secret road maps to a dark past. Luckily nobody really notices them, or they just don't care enough about me to ask.
Last year I lost one of my best friends. He was coming to see me for the afternoon like he promised he would. When he got to my house nobody was home. Apparently our neighbour Janice told him I'd been sent to the hospital. She said it was a life or death situation and that I might not make it. She offered to give him a lift to the hospital but he disagreed. He called me about six times. Each call was declined though, my phone was turned off and I was in immediate surgery. He left a few voice messages every so often. The first one was out of panic, he wanted to know what was going on and how I was. The second was more panicked; he wondered why I wasn't answering my phone and hoped that I was alright. That must have been the point where he decided to call Mum. When she answered she was really distraught. He asked what was going on and she told him her boyfriend had stabbed my neck. She explained that there was little hope I would make it through the surgery. It was a 35% chance considering the amount of blood I'd lost. Especially since my blood was so rare, even if I were to survive the surgery they'd have to try to find someone who could give blood to me. He couldn't stand knowing I wouldn't survive. That's when I received the last of the voice mails. He broke down and cried saying that no matter what happened to me he'd always love me, that I was the reason for his happiness and losing me would be the worst thing in the world. He said that I was the reason for him being alive. I was his purpose and without me, there was nothing for him.
I remembering waking up and wondering why I was in a hospital. I remember all the cords attached to my arms and the feeling of my head in a brace. I can remember wanting to scream out "What's going on! Where am I! What am I doing here!" But instead of screaming for help a gurgle came through my lips. I tried to scream again and again, but my voice wouldn't work. The doctors later told me it was because I was in shock. As it turns out my mums boyfriend and I had an argument, it was much worse than all the other times though. He'd been drinking all day and doing drugs in the small caravan out the back in our yard. Heavily intoxicated he came at me with a knife and started threatening me. I came at him with a frying pan just like in the movies. Unfortunately unlike the movies it didn't knock him out. It just made him more angry and violent. He tried stabbing me in the chest but I slipped on the tiles in the kitchen and he got me in the neck instead. His laugh was a violent, dark laugh filled with malice. It still rings in my ears. My mum called an ambulance, and I was sent to hospital. I didn't know she covered up the whole event. She made up some story to the police about her boyfriend making dinner. She told them I went to the kitchen to see what he was making and slipped on the tiles. He tried to grab me before I went down and with the knife still in hand, accidentally stabbing me. They didn't see anything wrong with the story and they thought he had no real motives to do anything anyway. So it was all swept under the rug.
