Madeline Brielle Kavanaugh, a young girl. Mentally she is broken. Her mother is a successful, rich buisnesswoman. After her father left them when she was six her mother changed. Her mother started drinking and became abusive, mentally and physically...
"MADELINE!" I vaguely woke up from my horrible sleep. I was a awake for about 30 seconds when I felt like my heart stopped. 'Please, please don't tell me it's past 6;30 AM, no...' tears where starting to form in my bright blue eyes. 8:30 AM I read it multiple times until my mother voice grabbed my attention. 'I'm done for'
I heard very angry footsteps going up the stairs. And before I knew it, my bedroom door flew open. It felt like my ribs started tightening on my lungs and putting pressure on my heart. "YOU STUPID TWAT! WHY IN GODS NAME ARE YOU STILL IN THAT BED OF YOURS!?" My mother yelled at me. 'I don't think you're allowed to talk in God's name woman' I thought to myself. "I uhhmm.... uhh" I was about to cry, I knew what was coming next. It's happens often so it's not too hard to guess for me.
She yelled at me for about 30 minutes before the real fun started.. at this point she was crying about her life while punching me in my sides. This happens at least 3 times a week and after a while you hardly feel it. "ITS ALL YOUR FAULT! IF YOU WOULD'VE JUST DIED AT BIRTH! IT *punch on the left side of my ribs* WOULD'VE *punch on the right side of my ribs* SAVED ME *punch on the left side of my ribs* A WHOLE LOT OF-" I was expecting another punch. I wasn't really paying attention as my I could feel myself getting ready to faint once again. She roughly grabbed my faced in her right hand. There was no doubt in my mind she was trying bruise me, just as a reminder. And it worked. "ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING!?" My vision was clouded with black dots and I felt my eyes rolling the the back of my head. And before I knew it I was out like a light.
I arise from my painful slumber. I looked around my room only to see the horrible state it was in. There was a hole in my door, vodka on the floor and my booked were ripped of of my shelves. I sighed 'why me? Is it only me that has this? Are there more people that go through this? Its not like I would know anyway. I never get to leave this place, only for school.... SHIT SCHOOL' I quickly looked at my clock. 5:30 AM it read. That would mean it was Saturday. It was Friday when my wonderful mother note the sarcasm, had bursted into my room. Tearing the place apart.
I got up shakily. My knew barely being able to stay standing. And I walked to my closet. My mother chooses what I get to wear. She cares a lot about reputation and status so I only had designer clothing. I loved my dresses and ballerina's but sometimes I wish I could leave and choose for some old baggy jeans... But if I only dared to look at such clothing, I would be as good as dead. Funny enough, I don't want to die. Death scares me and I want nothing to do with it. I am still hopeful I will be able to get away from my mother someday. See my mother is hurting, and I feel bad for her. My father left us when I was six. My mother never wanted a child but she got pregnant by accident. And so here I am, the mistake of Clara Richardson and Maxwell Kavanaugh. I still have a picture of me and my dad from when I was around two years old. The picture is old and I little ripped. I found it when I was cleaning out the attic on the fifth floor. My father held my very tiny baby face to his cheek and he had his eyes closed. It looked so perfect I couldn't understand why he would ever leave me. He didn't even bother to say goodbye to me or the woman that gave birth to me.
I got dressed in my pink dotted dress, I put on my ballerinas en put my golden necklace around my neck.
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In the way I was raised it wouldn't even have crossed my mind to wear something comfy and easy. Sneakers is not something I own I have ballerinas,heels and stylish boots.
I went to my cream white make-up table. I brushed my thick blonde hair. My mother thought it would be nice to make my hair a lighter blonde so instead of my dark ash blonde hair, my hair is a perfect golden blonde. I applied concealer to the visible bruises on my face. ''SHIT' I thought to myself. I was almost late.
I didn't bother cleaning the place filled with awful memories, or what most people would call their bedroom and rushed down stairs. After walking 4 flights of stairs I walked a little further and came to find a near completely destroyed kitchen. 'Oh for heavens sake mother .' Speaking of, I turned around and saw my mother panting against the wall. She looked like a crazy person on steroids. Eyes bulging out of their sockets, sweat dripping down her forehead. I could hardly tell she had green eyes because of all the redness around her eyes. She had either had her monthly doses of her drugs or she had been crying. My mother cries a lot. I always hear her when I can't sleep, which is fairly often. "go get me a glass of rum Mad" she asked me. I turned around to go get her what she wanted, I know I shouldn't give her alcohol. It feels like I'm helping her into her grave and as much as I hate her for what she has done to me, she is my mother. Sadly not the same woman i knew before Maxwell left her. But deep down I hope she's still here only locked away. I searched for the bottle. I scanned all the labels on the bottles to find the name El Dorado. I took a step back from the counter to look at all the smashed bottles on the floor only to find the label I was looking for soaked in the rum she so desperately wanted. "U.. uhh..uhmm m-mother?" I asked while panick washed over me. "whaaaattttttt" she asked lazily. I knew not the be misled by the tone of her voice. Her moods are like light switches. "I- uhhhm "w-w-we don't have i-it anymore" I heard slow footsteps coming towards me. My feet wouldn't move, I stood frozen. I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt her breath on my neck, she was breathing heavily and she reeked. "THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL STANDING HERE?" As she was yelling that I could feel her spit flying around and landing on my neck and ears. "Get moving" she said not yelling this time "w-w-hat?" I asked rather confused. "GO TO THE DAMN STORE AND GET ME SOME GOD DAMN RUM IS IT REALLY THAT HARD YOU STUPID WH0RE?" I was so surprised she told me I could leave the house I lived in and wasn't allowed to leave accept for school. I looked directly in her eyes. I felt like the first time I did that in years. I probably was a very long time I stared directly into her eyes. She turned her back to me and I walked around her and headed straight to our front door. My mother watched me walk out the door but not before shouting "WHEN YOU GET BACK, YOUR GONNA GET IT BECAU-" I closed the door before she could finish.
