Safer This Way

Chapter 17

Alright, so begins the unraveling. I'm going to warn you ahead of time that they're will be cliffhangers, and not all of them will get an immediate resolution but it's the only way I've found to write this part of the story. It will be very much fun...for me and pretty much only me but I hope you keep reading anyways...Happy reading :)

*Luke*

    "I got new clothes today. I really don't like them, but mom–sorry, I meant to write step-mom, I'm still getting used to that even though I've known for months now–said that this was how I had to look now. I couldn't say no, and I'm too afraid of what she might do if I disagree to tell her that I hate how big they are. It feels almost like I'm swimming in my clothing, but at least I have some now since she threw out all of my favorites. But then again, I won't really be needing those anymore, despite the fact they were perfect.

    Who knows if this entry will even make any sense to anyone in the future, even to myself. I'm still getting used to writing in my code so writing in journals takes significantly longer than it used to, but I can't take the chance that anyone in this house will be able to read it.

I figured out how to write in this cipher from a spy novel of all things, and at first it was almost fun, like pretending I was an undercover agent rather than trying to survive in a real life house of horrors. It's the only way I have to keep myself sane, to write down my thoughts and ensure I don't lose who I really am by being forced to live such a lie. I read a Shakespeare play the other day, and it really hit me when he wrote "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." I hope that rings true in my life, that I don't lose myself with all the changes, all of the lies.

    It still hurts so badly when when I think about what they've done to me. We moved right after everything happened, and it kills me that I couldn't even say goodbye to Henry, but how could I have possibly explained the way I look to him? He's protective enough to try something stupid, and I can't let her hurt him, not Henry. I'm still coming to grips with the fact that I may never see him again, or if I do, that I won't even be me anymore.

    I don't know who I'm supposed to be anymore, all I know is that this new life hurts in so many ways. She hits me, almost every day now and I can't seem to pinpoint what exactly sets her off. Some days I think she just can't take the thought of me still breathing. Did you know that you can, in fact, still breathe when four of your ribs are broken? It's true. Each breath feels like a non-fireproof dragon breathing fire, but I'm not asphyxiating so surely life isn't all bad.

    This is not the life I thought I would have. It's a life that no one should have, least of all a 12 year old who's done nothing wrong. She beats me, and Marie laughs. She says she wishes that I was never born, and Marie agrees. I've been to the hospital five times in as many months, and they say that I deserve worse. At least she's starting to realize that if people see bruises they have questions, and that a hospital, even one with staff as gullible as children, will show concern for repeat patients that shouldn't be there.

    I guess I just want to understand. How can she do this and still sleep at night? What did I do to her?–or to Marie? How can my father pretend not to notice that I can't walk because my left foot was shattered with a baseball bat?–that I can't breathe because my ribs are healing from a fall down the stairs?–that my eyes are dead because the ones that are supposed me from the horrors in this world, are the horrors in my world?

    How could anyone do what they've done to another human being? More importantly, how can a family do this to their–"

    I turn away from the leather bound notebook open on the kitchen table and put my head in my hands, purposefully ignoring the wetness of my face that had been there since the second translated paragraph.