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The little girl cowered in the corner of her bedroom, clutching the dirty teddy bear against her chest as the light turned on. An orange glow surrounded her and then was blocked as a shadow stepped in the room. A manly shadow. The little girl winced and tears formed in her already black eyes. The man stepped closer to her and held something in his hand. The little girl who was only eight years old knew what was going to happen. She could do nothing to stop it and she was so terribly scared. The man who was her dad raised the object in his hand and then slammed it into the little girl.
The girl screamed in pain. No shock. This had happened before and she knew what it was. Abuse. At eight years old she knew the difference between child abuse and discipline. This was abuse. The man beat her repeatedly each time in the same spot. He wouldn't stop until he drew blood. The little girl couldn't breathe and was out of breath. The man stopped beating her as blood trickled down her stomach and fell onto the wooden floor. Her beautiful green eyes were spilling tears. She could remember a time when this didn't happen.
When she lived in Florida with her happily married mum and dad. With her best friend Jace, she was a happy little girl. Then her dad got a new job in New York and said they had to move. Her mum had a wonderful life in Florida and didn't want to leave. So they got a divorce and had many fights. She told Jace about the fights at home and that's where everything went down hill. Her dad won custody of her and she was to move to NYC. The two best friends, who were like glue, were ripped apart. It was a sad time.
When the little girl thought about it, all she saw was tears, screaming and raised voices. It was a memory she wished to forget. The girls dad bent down on his knees and stared the little girl in the face. Angrily he stared her down. It was an evil glare that the little girl hated seeing. She couldn't remember what she had done wrong to make her dad so incredibly angry. The little girl held the dirty bear closer to herself and buried her face into the corner of the wall and cried. She just wanted it all to end. Wanted all the pain and suffering to end right there and then. She wanted to crawl under a blanket and stay there for the rest of her life and escape everything. The little girl would never trust anyone again. She had lost all hope. Lost the joy of being a little kid who could dream and be happy without being judged.
Her dad grabbed her face in one hand and held it tightly. The little girl whimpered and cried harder. Her fathers voice rang out in a fierce yell,
" YOU WILL LOOK AT ME. DON'T BE SO PATHETIC!"
The little girl brought herself to look into her fathers eyes. Eyes the same as hers, hiding dark secrets but pure black . in her Fathers there was blind fury. Nothing else. All of it directed at her and she didn't even know what she did. Valentine thrust her face into the wall and it hit the wall. The girl raised her hand instinctively to hold her sore and probably bruising face. Her dad grabbed it and scratched it, " DON'T BE A RETARD! DO SOMETHING RIGHT IN YOUR SORRY LIFE!"
She started crying harder and harder still. She looked at her hand which had three fingernail scratches running down them. Bleeding. Her dad slapped her face and got even angrier. The little girl fell onto the floor, a crumpled heap on the wooden floor, below the window. The moonlight streamed in and showered her with grey light. It wasn't going to save her though. Her father stood up and brought his leg back. Kicking the little girl several times in the stomach and winding her.
Her dad left, leaving his eight year old daughter, crumpled on the floor, clutching a dirty old teddy bear and gasping for breath. She didn't even know why she kept on living. It was a sad thing. A tiny, frail, skinny eight year old girl thinking about suicide. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't continue living in fear of her own dad. She could leave but she had nowhere to go. Nobody would listen to a little girl.
After all she went through this every night. that's how she had so many scars, so many bruises and scratches, so many memories, so many lies. When she went to school, teachers would question her about the scratches on her arms and legs. She would blame the cat she didn't have. But they would believe it. If they asked about the bruises she would say she fell over and hit herself. They believed that too. She desperately wanted help but she knew that if she told someone, one person, she would be in the biggest trouble she had ever been in. so she braved through it every night. The brave little girl.
Clary shot upright in her bed with a gasp. She was sweating slightly and she was breathing heavily. She put her hand to her forehead and wiped her hair out of her face. Her long wavy red hair. That was her life. She was that girl. She was now 15 years old. She went to counselling at her school without her dad knowing about it. Whenever she went to the guidance officers they would comment on her big green eyes. Clary would just smile and say thanks. She didn't like her eyes. She didn't know why. She just didn't like them.
She shuddered like she always did every morning. She soundlessly got out of bed and padded silently down the hallway to the bathroom. She crept past her dads room anxiously. Not wanting to wake him up. Valentine would still be sleeping. Clary closed and locked the door to the bathroom and washed her face. Her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head she took it out and brushed out all the knots and put it into a side ponytail. Then she did the rest of the morning necessities. She heard the creaking of her dad's bed as she got up. She panicked and quickly walked back to her room. She packed her bag and locked her door. Then she slid open her window and jumped out. Closing it back up, she started the half hour walk to school.
When Clary got to school there was already people there. She walked in the gates of Stuyvesant high school and was met by her friend Maia. She was one of the few people who knew about her life and what she had to go through every day.
" Clary? Are you okay?"
Clary turned her head towards her and looked at her. " what?"
" I said… are you okay? You don't seem here if you know what I mean"
" I know.. Umm sorry" Clary said, putting a hand to her forehead and swishing her fringe out of the way.
" what happened?"
" I had a dream. More like a flashback of when I was eight. Its just so hard and I just feel like giving up at this point-"
Maia interrupted her. " don't give up babe. It will be okay. you've braved through this far and you know what the officers said. If you ever need anything just call me. Use that pay phone card she gave you"
" I know," Clary stopped walking and wrapped her arms around Maia. " thankyou. You're the bestest friend ever"
Maia hugged her back. The two girls walked into the school together and found their spot where they sat and talked. It was a secluded spot. Under a big fig tree there was a wooden picnic table. It was shady and not to cold and not to hot. The ideal spot. The girls put their bags down and started talking. Maia spoke first " so… you know that guy Jordan in your English class?"
Clary looked at her friend confused, " yeah, what about him?"
Maia looked down sheepishly then back up at Clary. " well, we were in line for movie tickets to see the Hunger games and he asked me questions about the characters and stuff and well he asked me out on a date!"
Clary slapped her hand playfully. " when did this happen?" she said in her excited voice.
" Monday night. We went to see the movie together. It was great. Clary it was so amazing!"
" oh my god! So are you two like… a thing now?"
" yeah I guess. We are going out again on Saturday. Your welcome to come with"
" NO WAY! Maia its you two, and plus I wouldn't be allowed to anyway remember?"
Maia nodded disappointed. The conversation dropped as the loudspeaker sounded. It was right above their heads so unlike many other students the two girls could hear it clearly. The principals voice sounded through it. When Clary heard those words she felt sick. She felt like she needed to throw up.
Clarissa Fray. Clarissa Fray, please come to the office immediately. We have news for you. Clarissa Fray.