Handcuffs or Jail?

Prologue (Photo of Foster Dad)

 Edited.

Prologue:

Life sucks. Plain and simple: it sucks. My parents are dead, and so is my baby brother. Everyone thinks they were kidnapped on my six birthday and that I was beaten nearly to death by the kidnappers and that they were taken somewhere and killed…..or at least that’s what I told them.

After a few months in the foster system (I didn’t have any living family) I was adopted by the nicest man and woman in the entire world. I thought maybe I just had a tough break before and now my life would go alright.

Boy, was I wrong.

After a few months of being the best dad in the world he showed his true colors to the both of us. He beat us every single day, kept us locked in the basement, and raped his wife in front of me…..not fun.

After 3 months on a full moon we woke to find the yin and yang sign on her upper arm. He had used a knife to shed away all the skin to make the black sections of the symbol.

That night he tortured her to death.

He got rid of her body and continued beating me for the next month. Then on the next full moon I woke up to the same sign on my upper chest like it was charm for a necklace.

For the rest of that day, for about 9 hours he tortured me. It was the most painful thing I had ever felt. He took knives and dug them straight into my skin, hold them there and slowly pull them back out. I would cry out in pain and he would smirk with an evil glint his eye, but right before he delivered the final blow I blacked out.

Supposedly someone had found the body of my adopted mother and the cops had traced it back to him. They sent a stealth team in and took him out. For my sake the government hid my story from the press and changed my back ground history putting in my record I was in a bad car accident and that’s why I was in the hospital, had permanent scars on my body, and why the nerves in my left arm have been severed, destroying any hope of pain sensory on that part of my body.

After 5 months in the hospital I was discharged and I was sent all around the country every few months from foster home to foster home. No one wanted me and those who had me would hit me…….a few raped.

The only good thing that came from all of this is the fact that I’ve studied books endlessly so that I can get into a good college and escape this life.

So that’s my story……. it’s depressing, I realize that, but don’t feel pity for me. At least I’m not completely dead to the world, right? I still have my humanity. I have feelings just the same as everyone, I just never get close enough to anyone to show my emotions……

Until Kent showed up that is.

(soooooo…………….like it?!?!?!??!?!?)