Take You Back

CHAPTER 1

~Scars have the strange power to
remind us that our past is real.
-Cormac McCarthy.

"Please don't!" I cried, but I was slapped on the cheek again. I knew that speaking back to my father at this point would enrage him, but I couldn't control my thoughts and emotions. I gulped hard and fought back tears that threatened to well up in my eyes. Crying was not a viable option. My cries for help would simply go unnoticed by those nearby. "I've had enough." I want out. I want it to be over. "I'm not going to care for anyone else!" I felt compelled to tell them, to let them know that I was tired of being tossed around like trash, tired of being terrorized, tired of all the sorrow and despair, and possibly even hated the trauma that they were inflicting on me.

But no, I was just as helpless as any other young girl who was tortured on a daily basis. I was perplexed about approaching anyone. They took everything away from me - my parents, who have suddenly become my tormentors, robbing me of the little hope and dignity I had left.

He got closer and closer, watching me tremble beneath him as though I were his prey. His eyes were a golden brown that suddenly transformed into a deep black abyss. While he grinned at me, I trembled, gazing up at him. Tears welled up in my eyes with each step he took forward. I crawled backward to maintain my distance. What have I done to deserve this type of treatment after enduring years of pain?

I closed my eyes, pleading that it wasn't real, as if it were a terrible nightmare. However, it wasn't just a nightmare when I felt my father's cold wedding ring come into contact with my bare skin. His dirty hands touching my body made me feel like I was peeling my skin off. Nothing like this has ever happened before. My parents were just as cruel as any villains.

He ran his dirty, filthy fingers up and down my body repeatedly, and I was unprepared for what he was about to do next. I was disgusted, embarrassed, and ashamed. Why am I still here? Why does the thought of running away ever cross my mind? My entire body shivered as a broad grin spread across his face. I kept my guard up in case something unexpected happened. I was having trouble breathing. My heart was racing faster than it ever had before, and I was afraid it would explode in my chest if it continued to accelerate. My vision was blurred by tears that seemed to keep falling without end.

Nobody should have to go through something like this. All of this torture was only necessary for individuals who were morally corrupt. My eyes were not deceiving me in any way. I witnessed what you would describe as pure hatred. I felt nothing but anger and hatred with each hit and burn inflicted upon me. This wasn't something you could apologize for, and it wasn't something you could easily forgive. It would take years.

My prayers were answered when my mother stormed into the room, raging at my father. However, I knew it wasn't over for me. She didn't care what he did; it was all just an excuse to hit me more. My head was pounded into the tiled floor. The next thing I knew, I was lying there. My mother was tapping me on the back with her cane as I felt a rush of blood flow through my head. I could hear a bone shattering as their laughter filled the room.

The crane was my worst fear. Being hit by anything other than a crane left me with bruises and fractured bones for days. My mother referred to it as "the Devil." I was sobbing on the ground, not daring to move because I knew that if I did, the ache in my back would not go away. However, I couldn't care less about having to move. It was the only way I needed to escape.

After hours of waiting, I finally came to the realization that I could no longer stay here and that I deserved a better life elsewhere. But where do I go when I'm thirteen? My life has been shattered. If that means I have to stay on the streets, I'll do it. I got to my feet shakily. I was aware that I wasn't supposed to move. In my time of need, I was unsure of what actions to take or avoid. If I move around, the pain becomes more intense, but if I don't move, it has no effect on my body.