[COMPLETED]
"If you let me leave now, I won't tell anyone what you did sir..." I grumbled, and he smirked a little, as if it was a hilarious joke. "Like I said, you aren't leaving Caroline..."
Caroline was once a perfectly happy child, she had a hom...
June 26th, 1975 I opened my eyes. Standing in front of me was him, the man who destroyed my life, he took it from me. I stared in disbelief as he held my small, fragile body, covered in deep wounds. Stab wounds... _____ My name is Caroline Andrews. I was once a happy young girl before I died. When I was small, nothing could take away my happy mood. Lost my favourite toy? I found a new one. Fell and scraped my knee? Let my mom wash it out and kiss it better.
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My mother, she was perfect, in every single way... Of all possible women, my father had fallen head over heels in love with her when they were in high school. Sometimes I grimace at how exactly alike she and I looked. Long black hair with bangs, grey eyes, pale marble-like skin, and skinny yet curvy proportions. My older brother Dustin took more after my dad with his looks, brunette hair, and dark brown eyes with tanner skin.
When I was little, my mom told me amazing stories of heroes, brave, and strong. I always told her she was my hero, and that always made her smile. One day when I was probably just about four, I found my mother knitting a long, black and white striped scarf. "Mommy? Who's the scarf for?" I had asked, climbing onto her lap. She simply smiled, and wrapped it around me, "you of course Caroline!" She had giggled, and we hugged each other tightly.
My family was filled with love. Until the accident of course. It had been raining down hard, and my parents went for a drive. All was fine, until a truck came out of seemingly nowhere, and my father lost control of the wheel. The crash left my father hurt and mother severely injured. As I held my mother's hands in the ER, her heart monitors beeps slowing, she shook as heavy tears filled her eyes. "Caroline, my sweet baby girl... you are an amazing person, and you will one day find your way back to me, I promise, Caroline, I, I, I'll find you, o-one, da..." her shaky words were cut off by one, continuous line and beep, and my brother lost it with tears.
After that, my father became nothing but an alcoholic wreck. Every night he either was buried with bottles, or came home smelling like three bars had spewed all over him. Of course with the booze came abuse. Every day I came home from kindergarten was a living hell. Slap after slap, kick after kick. My brother Dustin got the worst of it, being thrown around, screamed at, punched, my dad even once threw a chair at him, and Dustin was only seven! On many nights, we could hear our father drunkenly sobbing. "Sophia... why didn't I hold onto that damn wheel hard enough..." he cried. "Our children hate me, and I act as if I hate them, but, I love them, they're all I have left of you, but I'm just so terrible to them..."
One night my father went past his already broken breaking point. He had brought home a whore from the street, and all I heard was the sounds through my bedroom walls. That night I had prayed to God to bring my mother back to life. Nothing. My father actually felt such guilt for that, because he loved my mom so dearly. Me and Dustin had had enough of the abuse, all the hitting, and the yelling. On a quiet night, he and I packed each a small suitcase with clothes, special belongings, and canned food. All I decided to wear since my mother passed on was a black hoodie, a grey skirt, and my scarf she had lovingly made me.
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With no where to go, Dustin and I moved a lot, all within our small town. The longest place we stayed was a small, broken down and abandoned garage, and it's in that garage that our story truly begins, so sit back, relax, and listen to the story of how my life was destroyed before me. As much as I want to tell you otherwise, this story has no happy end. This is the story of how I died, and I wish it was different. But sometimes life is just unfair.
