Transforming Love

Home

Ella's P.O.V

The house, for once, we still and quite. A fact that made me to nervous. The air was practically dark with the oncoming storm that was coming. Definitely a fit that I wasn't looking forward to. My father had left me and my mother when I was five years old. The reasons, I couldn't tell you. Ever since then my mother became a drunk and blamed me for everything. Including my father's leaving us. Her rage went as far as abuse in all forms. Verbally, physically, emotionally and mentally, I received it all. I wish I could say I had some sort of safe place to go to but that would be a lie. The only other place I'm allowed to go to school and even there is hell. Sometimes I wonder if the real hell will be better than the places that I go to. It was the same thing everyday. The halls filled with angry sneers and words as sharp as knives. No matter where I went I was unwanted and alone. What made it worse is the things that the kids said at school followed me home.

Freak.

Whore.

Bastard child.

Your father never wanted you.

No one loves you.

Who would ever want you.

These things and so much said by kids my age at school. Also emerging from the lips of the woman who's supposed to protect, care and watch over me. With the words came painful blows. Each one both a physical and psychological wound to hurt me more.

'Why did you have to be born?'

Smacked across the face.

'Your father loved me before you came.'

Scratched across the chest with razor sharp nails.

'You filthy whore, no wonder your father left you.'

Cigarettes put out on my arm.

The marks were always there to prove the abuse but no one cared. They were never shown to anyone. Even in the heavy heat in Jasper, Nevada I wore jeans and thin long sleeves. Cheap makeup hid whatever bruises were left on my face. As I said before I'm unwanted and unloved. A shadow among the shadows. No one cared about what happened to me. No one would care if I were just to disappear and never return. It's strange because not all of my scars and wounds came from my mother. The harmful words that others would call me were engraved on me as well. From a blade held by my own hand.

Useless.

Whore.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Unnecessary.

Bastard.

All of these and more torn into my skin. Marking me as all of these things forever. Every time I took a shower I would look at these words and believed I was every single one. There was only one word that was not done by myself. The one word that hurt the most. Caused by the cruelty of others, kids my own age.

FREAK.

That one single word stuck out to me. Every time I saw that one word it sent daggers piercing into my heart. I don't understand why it hurt so much though. I was a nobody so shouldn't it not matter to me?

Granted why should I care about anything at all?

As quietly as I could I walked downstairs after getting ready for another horrifying day at school. Carefully peeking around the corner of each room before sneaking in and quickly dashing out. Stealthily making my way to the kitchen for some water. It was the only thing I was allowed to have without permission. Usually I was able to sneak around the house without my mother catching sight of me. At this time she was either passed out on the couch from drinking or high on drugs. Which meant I was able to easily sneak around her.