Just a warning , this story cantains suicidal themes , self harm and XXXxxxXXX
references to rape. Nothing too bad but you are warned nonetheless. If
you have time please review :) I greatly appreciate it.
Sometimes I didn't really know the reason I woke up. I would be perfectly contented to float in the nothingness of the time between night and dawn. My nightmares couldn't compare to reality , the world of a cruel hard man with hollow eyes. Sometimes I wished that I was dead. I prayed maybe one day , if I had a guardian angel , that they would fulfill my only desire; death. Oh how loosely death hung from its tendrils , forever enticing me. Its cool grip would grasp my throat and I would be mere seconds away. But like anything I had ever hoped for , death was snatched away. I stared life hard in the face , willing him to not make a mockery of me. But when the man with the temper and impatience returns for his fill , willing becomes begging. And begging becomes me , everyday , every second of my existance. I beg and I don't recieve.
One day whilst alone in the hovel that is considered my house , death came tantilisingly close in the form of a rusty knife. My insides swelled with savage joy , my brain fogging over. It could be over in seconds. But , I rationalized , the knife was too blunt and rusty. Surely my ribcage wouldn't let it in. My heart was protected , for no reason at all. I started to shake , disapointment racked my frail body. Why was it so unfair?I didn't want to live , I didn't deserve to live.
Killed your mother , Dirty Squib.
I plunged the knife into the inside of my arm and let out a horrendous scream . God that hurt. I twisted the knife in the puncture hole and laughed wildly. The blood splurted out and dripped on the floor , followed by my tears. And just for a brief moment I relished in the physical pain a simple knife could bring. I could control the agony , something I was denied for my whole life. In a matter of days another wound joined the first , followed by more and more. And when I had finished I would wash the knife , clean it carefully and place it back in the kitchen draw. No one would ever know.
The only reason I permitted myself to look out of the window was to see him. I didn't want to see the sun or the flowers or the summer sky. I hadn't seen them in years and I had learnt to live without them. But him , his eyes were like shining stars in the midnight sky. When I was alone I would gaze upon his manor , a few solitary hours of peace in my empty world. And then the door slammed open. He told me to get away from the window , no one wanted to see a dirty squib like me.
His filthy hands crushed my frail arms and I was forced onto the ground. I didn't fight back . There was no point in fighting. What could I fight for anyway? Everything was worthless. I was worthless. Eventually he had tired and got up , leaving my bruised body , his broken daughter on the floor.
Then I found myself outside. The blazing sun caressed my skin and felt like heaven. Or as close the heaven as I could get. Murders like me went to hell. He said to find some food. I submitted , and embarked on the fruitless task of locating something to eat. Shops were for people with money and dignity. I crouched on the muddy earth and pulled out some erksome looking mushrooms. At least they were edible. Still I wished for toadstills, because then, I could bring him and I both to
the valley of death.
"What are you doing girl?" asked a voice laced with contempt and arrogance. No room for pity. I felt the back of my neck burn as he watched me. The one with the starry eyes.
"Picking mushrooms." I replied. I hadn't spoken in months. No one listened anyway.
"You call them mushrooms?" Tom jeered .
My breath hitched in my throat and I couldn't bring myself to answer back. It seemed like my insides were collasping on themselves. My eyes burned.
"Take this and buy some real food , you disgusting lowlife."
He threw a few coins beside me , landing in the dirt. But I didn't notice. All I know, that in that small moment, my heart shattered.