Left In Your Arms

Everything was like I was torn down.

I felt lost, like I had nobody to tell everything to, or even look at them and having them notice the pain I'm in.

Nothings fine, I'm torn. -- those are the 4 words that explain everything, nothing more could bring me back to when I was 7. The happiness of when I opened up my presents on Christmas day, or ate cake on my birthday, I was full of so much joy.

But then, of course, the un-happy days came around after 3 years.

10 Years old, and I was being yelled at. My stepdad, came along into my life, he obviously had anger issues, so bad, that he was beating up my mother.

I would sit there, and watch. I did nothing, I just sat there and cried. Afraid of what was out there other than that evil man I call, my stepdad, no I will not call him by his real name, althought you should know, it's Josh.

His bald head, his bright blue eyes, his rosy dry lips, his scruffy beard, and the evil grin he'd get when he'd look at me or my mother.

At 13, I knew what was going on. I had just gotten into middle school, and every day I saw people getting yelled at, and bullied, but they did nothing, just like me.

Age 14, calling police, and he escapes.

Age 15, Sticking up for myself and I end up getting a broken leg.

Age 16, Try to get a car, but he steals all my money.

Age 17, Tired of everything, I'd sit in my room and stare at the blank ceiling waiting to get beat up.

Age 18, I'm leaving.

It's my time, and I'm getting the hell out of this place.

But, how?