Chapter 1
The Beating
I know, most people will have a much harder life than I will, but this is how I was raised. I was beaten, I still have some scars from when I was whipped too hard with the belt. Most of the time they used a belt, other times they used kitchen utensils, such as a spatula, whisk, cutting board etc.. But I didn't let that stop me. I still have nightmares of those horrible times. but I push them back, way back into my mind. At the time it made sense just to deal with it. Sometimes I just wanted to run away. I did, although I always came back just in time for supper, then to get another beating. Its not fun. I mean, hiding from my dad when he comes home from drinking. cause I know, he's gonna be pissed. and when he's pissed, I'm the one he takes his anger out on.
I hid in every place I could think of, but it was no use. He would find me anyway. either I had to come out eventually, or he'd figure out my hiding spot. But I'd get that beating. It felt like being stuck with a hot metal rod. the whips over and over again. Honestly, the beatings were the only thing I felt like I had to live for. I mean, if you knew how the house I grew up in really was. but the beatings were the only thing in my life that I looked forward to.
