Life Changes

Chapter 1: I'm Done

POV: Sharee

"Girl you know I need my drugs!" These are the words I always hear from my mother. My mother, Theresa, or as I like to call her, The Bitch, is a major drug addict. She chooses crack cocaine as her choice of drug, but she will take any and everything she can get her hands on.

My name is Sharee Desiree Richardson. I am 16 years old. I was born September 29, 1998. Since I was five years old, my mom has used me to get drugs or get her money for her drugs. From the ages of five to twelve, she would let these nasty, sick, disgusting men touch me. From the age of thirteen to now, I have been being raped by many men just so she could get her fix. She even went as far as getting birth control and making me take it. She made them use condoms but she said there needed to be a second use of contraception. She said she wasn't taking care of any children. She doesn't take care of the one she has.

"Girl, you hear me?" She was screaming her head off.

"Yes mother." I rolled my eyes and headed towards my bedroom. We lived in this rundown ass apartment complex. I was getting cleaned up so that Theresa could get her drugs. As I was getting prepared for the worst thing that could happen to any human being, I began crying. It was one of two choices. I get raped or I get beat. I'd rather take the rape than the beating.

I took a shower and put on clothes. I proceeded downstairs to see my mother sitting on the couch. As soon as I hit the last step and she locked eyes with me, she started yelling and screaming. "Go put some makeup on! This is a regular and you know how he likes it." This bitch. I stomped upstairs to put on makeup. Twenty minutes went by and I heard a knock on the door. I heard distinct voices and I knew exactly who it was. I heard voices inching closer to my door then the knob started twisting. "There she is. Have fun." What mother would say something like that? He entered my room and I closed my eyes waiting for the interaction to be over.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, it was finally over. He got dressed and left. I continued to lay in my bed and cry. I finally got up and showered. I felt so disgusted. I scrubbed myself until I started to bleed. I threw on a pair of grey sweatpants and a black shirt. I decided to go in the living room and there was my mother. She was sprawled out on the floor with a needle in her arm. I politely stepped over her and went to the kitchen praying there was something to eat.

I was looking for something to make but there was absolutely nothing in there. Something told me to open the cabinet over the microwave. Just as I opened it, a couple letters fell out. They were letters from my father. I took the letters from the floor and cabinet , forgetting I was hungry, and returned to my room ready to read them. I have never laid eyes on these letters. As I was reading the letters, tears started to roll down my face. My father actually wanted full custody of me. I remember my father and his family. They have always wanted to be apart of my life but my mother wouldn't allow it. They used to always sneak me out and spend time with me. I think I've found my way to a better lifestyle.

Later that night, I packed my bag. I was going to leave out at 10:30 p.m. Theresa should be passed out. As 10:30 p.m. came, I was out of that house. I approached a pay phone six blocks away from the apartment complex.

"Hello? Shaun?"

"Who is this?"

"This is Sharee. Your daughter."