Freedom Is A Lie.

Freedom Is A Lie.

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Jul 1, 2014
I stare at myself in the mirror standing in a hospital gown. How did I ever get here? I'm supposed to be dead. I never planned on actually getting out of those woods. I can't believe what I see when I look in the mirror. I'm actually clean, my hair is brushed, my teeth are brushed, and my stomach isn't growling. I slip the gown off and look at myself again. There that seems more like, I'm finally brought back to reality. I gingerly rub my fingers along the scars that cover my body. These are the things that always bring me back down to earth, the one thing that reminds that I will never truly be safe until those men are caught. I'm tired but I don't want to go to sleep because the nightmares always come. no matter how far I run, I will always be haunted by the nightmares. But I am comforted by the thought that one day those evil men will be dead, because I am going to kill them.
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My life has always been terrible. I was always bullied at school. I don't know why, it just seemed that people didn't like my presence. The guys would beat me up and I'd get in trouble when I defended myself, for the teachers never saw what they did. The girls would trick me, making me think they liked me and laughing at me because of it. I was always in the principle's office for one reason or another, but I wasn't a bad student. I actually got really good grades. To make matters worse, my mother wanted nothing to do with me. She'd lock me in the basement, sometimes for days, with no food or warmth. My father would then sneak down and beat me before raping me. So, naturally, I wanted to die. But, for some reason, I can't die. No matter what I do, I can't stay dead. The thing I want more than anything is far out of my reach. Why can't I just die? Warning: mention of rape, suicide, and abuse. Also, this is a boy's love story.

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