Short Stories

Sad Little Girl... Sad Little Life...

That girl you noticed all that time ago, just sitting in the corner all alone, she has the worst story and it never got better...

At home she was abused by her mum. Her dad left them when she was 4, she was an only child, never left the house much, didn't have much friends. Her mum spewed hatred at her, blamed her for her dads leave and was told she was a mistake. It's fair to say her mum struggled with alcohol and drugs as well as mental illness. Her mental state led her to abuse her daughter who would be covered in bruises and dried blood. Her mum hit her and starved her and tried to drown her in a bath. Her mum would blame everyone but herself for her mistakes, if she dropped her shopping bags then it was the person working in the shops fault for not packing the groceries properly. If she ran out of hot water and electric then it was the councils fault and not hers, even if she never payed the bills. Often the girl would have to wash in cold water and dish soap just so she'd be clean. She often had bruises up and down her arms and legs from her mother's punches. She would wear long sleeved jumpers and jeans and would refuse to do PE in school so she wouldn't have to change in front of people. She wouldn't eat in school from the lack of money. She was bones in a skin sack... everything pointed out and showing, she was far from healthy but girls hated her for being skinnier than them, not by choice of course. She never got money to buy the things she needed. She had clothes but not what other people had, she never got to choose what she wore or what was bought for her. Her mum locked the fridge and the cupboards so she couldn't steal food. The girl eventually got so used to the daily abuse that there was no need for her to try and leave home. The abuse followed her everywhere......

In school her life was just as bad. Her home was the main entrance to hell, and school was the torturing chamber. The girls hated her for her weight, she was the bad kind of skinny and they didn't care, when she wouldn't eat they would throw food at her, some going as far as crowding her and forcing her face to the food lying on the floor. Many of the boys would laugh at her, treat her as a joke and some went as far as asking her out and laughing in her face. As if they would date her. The teachers were the worst. The ignored all the signs. They saw the teasing and called it a kids being kids situation. On the warm days of school she would take her jumper off, forgetting what people may see, sitting at the back of the class has its advantages but the teachers would see the bruises on her arms and back and say nothing, like it wasn't their place. She would draw sad little doodles in books, sometimes of a girl begging for freedom, she even wrote essays on the things she wanted most in the world, Hope, Freedom and Love, and the teachers would pass it off as creative writing, most people would connect the dots, other chose to ignore them. The kids would trip her up, push her into lockers, shove her into toilet cubicles and some would try and push her down the stairs. No-one helped her, no-one was there to catch her when she fell, and sadly everyone remembered who she was for the wrong reasons.

She no longer walks the earth anymore... She no longer adores the abuse and pain and no longer has to feel wrong doings. She finally gave in from the abuse and torture, she fixed the situation. One night after a beating from her mum and a nightmare day from the kids in school she went into her room after grabbing a pair a scissors from her kitchen, she barricaded the door so no-one could get in, not that anyone would try. She grabbed the scissors and cut down her wrists from top to bottom, along her veins. She cut deep and let the blood flow, and lay there until her soul was finally free and at peace.

The End