Sam
I sat there completly terrified, and tied down. He slowly slid the knife down my back, again, and again, and again. He laughed ever so maliciously, as I forced back tears. Then, he did something that would be the key to my escape; he lit a ciggarette. Except instead of taking a breath of smoke, he trailed ciggarette burns all down my arm, leaving black ash and scars. That's how my grandfather found out about the beatings. The police put him in prison, and then I lived with my mom. My mom, well, she never really wanted me, and she still doesn't.
