Delilah

Chapter 1

"Dear mom, you've been on vacation for a while now, I miss you! I don't think dad does though... but please come home soon! I love you, Delilah." 

Was the letter I wrote to my mom two weeks before I was told she past away, I don't think she ever got to read it. Now that I know she's gone for good I miss her even more. Not because she's gone, but because I have to forever live with my father. My mom past away when I was thirteen, my dad never cared... I don't think he does now. My mother always told me I had a pretty name, I don't think dad has even spoke to me since third grade. Well at least not with words. My mom also told me I was pretty mature for my ag- "AHHH!"

"MAMI!" I yelled, she is obviously not my real mom but my step mom, has been the nicest person to me since my mom past away but I still haven't told her about the abuse I've been going through. I'm afraid... that she won't believe me... just like everyone else..

"What happened!" I yelled after mami and ran to help her up as my step brother laughed

"Pfft! You're really gonna help her up! You guys are such wimps!"

"Hindi!" I yelled at may brother, so loud my dad heard. I gulped as I heard his large feet stomp down the stairs, I could tell he was mad... Then I felt a slap... A hard one... and all of a sudden... it went black.

Two hours later I woke up on the floor of the kitchen with the chef cutting with large knives right over me! Before my brain was really even awake enough to hear dad and mami yelling at each other, I gasped in surprise of the large knife cutting celery right over my head. Then came a bang! The first thing I heard for two hours then I saw blood splatters and broken glass at the end of my cold bear feet. After that all that came was yelling and screaming, I didn't feel that it was my place to speak... so I crept up to my room with the help of Mr. Edward, the chef, who was also terrified of my father.

As I sat in my cold dark room that dad did not bother to change the lightbulb in for years, listing to the yelling and screaming, and stared at the "happy birthday from mom" card on my desk wondering "When did dad get like this?" "Why is he like this?" "Was he like this when mom was alive?" I'm not very good at thinking to myself so I wrote it down on paper, and the answer is no. Dad was not like this when mom was alive, but why?

I was sitting in my bright shiny pink chair when mami walked in "get packed Delilah"

4 hours past...

"Mami?" I said questioning if we where leaving or not, I mean we had to she told me to pack... right? 

I walked outside of the house but instead I found a letter with one word written on it "Run"

So I am...