The After StoryMature

Just something that happens almost every day put into words. Some have been able to escape the tragedies that they had faced, me being one of the lucky ones I escaped as well. But there are others, to many children to count that have been abused during their life, whether it be emotional abuse, physical beatings, sexual abuse, and even raped by people, whether they are actually part of their family or not. Bullying is part of this. People get bullied about where they came from, what they look li

The Beginning

                I still wake up every night crying, crying for him to please stop, and crying for my mother to take better care of the kids, and give me break from caring for them - after all i was only ten years old with two brothers 7 and 1 and a sister who was 4 - crying for my parents to stop drinking and realize what they were doing to us. Crying out for her to see what happened to me, she never did, not until six years after the man died when I actually told her, and three years after I left that dreaded life behind, my only regret living my brothers and sister to deal with it on their own. I had done so great of a job disguising my actual feelings, trying to forget what had happened to me, it took another small tragedy to make small flashes begin to appear more rapidly, making me begin to remember once again.

                It hurts so badly, it hurts everyone around me, because they have to see how its tearing me to shreds. It hurts my family, it hurts my friends. It hurts my
friends to see the scars on my arm, one for every year that I know of that the
man had hurt me without my family knowing, and one for every year I kept it a
secret after the bastard died. I have 12 scars on my arm, and I am 16 years old.

The End

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