My Great Escape

Cpt 1

Ok so I had another idea for a story, I have no idea where this is going or if I'm even going to continue so please let me know what you think and if I should continue.

-Lexie 

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When I was born I was given a name, just like all of you. I never knew this name until I was 18. My "parents" never called me by my name. I want to tell you my story, but please, feel no pity for me, I made it out alive.

The drinking started around when I was seven. Up until then life had been okay, I was ignored, but I wasn't harmed in any way. So far they had always called me It, or You, but the drinking made them bitter. They started calling me Whore, or Slut, sometimes even Bitch, or Skank. How a child could be considered any of those was beside me. It was on my tenth birthday that the abuse started. At first it was a slap here, a shove there, but it soon escalated. No longer was I a child, no I was a servant, someone to always be there at their beck and call. If I was late on getting something I was hit. I forgot something, I got hit. I started crying? I was stripped naked, bound by my wrists and ankles, and hung by the writs binds in the cellar for days, no food, minimal water, and beatings you could only imagine. I finally learned to control the tears around 12 years old.

The beatings got worse and worse. I took them all, with out a word. One day I went to school with a nasty bruise on my face and my teacher called my father. He convinced her nothing was wrong, but when I got home I got another beating. After that I learned how to cover them up. Wear clothes to his the scars and cuts, steal makeup to cover what my clothes couldn't. Lets speed up a bit.

Age-18 Oct 12

Another punch landed on my face. -You stupid bitch-. She's pulling my hair. *FUCKING WHORE*. He lands a punch to my stomach. This has been going on for the last hour and it has finally taken its toll. I thankfully slip into welcomed unconsciousness. I awake in a puddle of my own blood. My clothes are torn, face and body bruised, and what's left of my hair stands up from all of the pulling. At least I'm alive. At least it was after school. Now that its night it'll heal a bit and be easier to cover up in the morning. I slowly pull myself up, cringing as pain shoots through me. I flex and move everything, checking out the damage. Ouch! Shit, sprained wrist, maybe ankle too...I'll wrap them and it'll be fine. No one will notice.

Slowly, painfully, I make my way up the stairs. Using the wall for balance I hobble down the hall to my room. Once there, I take scissors to my clothes; they're too damaged to save, and it will only cause more damage to pull them off, seeing how they're stuck to my wounds with blood. Trust me. I know. I strip down to just my underwear and survey the damage in the full body mirror. Anything yellowing doesn't count. Though, not much is yellowing as they have repeatedly hit and rehit the bruises, reversing any of the healing that was done. I have deep cuts running from my shoulders down my breasts from "mom's" nails. Two large black bruises mark my thighs from where "dad" was kneeling on me to hold me down. Chaff marks from her belt encircle my wrist, as well as the burns from her cigarettes. A sharp pain when inhaling makes me think I broke a rib where he kicked me. I turn around and look at my back. Welts and cuts drag down my back from him repeatedly whipping me with his belt. I turn around again and focus on my face. My lower lip is split, jaw bruised and it looks like another black eye forming around my dull green eyes. Faint finger prints run along my neck, showing where she was strangling me.

I grab the camera I stole when I was 13 and photograph the evidence. I throw some sweat pants and a hoody on and curl up on the floor in the corner. They took away my bed when I was 9, saying that I was too pathetic to have something nice, but, whatever, I lived with out one for years. I carefully roll over, avoiding my new bruises and possibly sprained or broken wrist. A sickening laugh drifts up to me as the pain and exhaustion pull me into a deep, dreamless sleep, 

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So tell me what you think and if I should continue! Also if anyone is good at making covers I would love a new one if I'm going to continue!

Thanks for reading!