Chapter One: Not Good Enough

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           I stood there looking at my naked and scared body in the mirror. I couldn't help but think about how impossible it seemed. How come even though I barely ate; I couldn't drop any more weight? I have been trying so hard to get skinnier than 90 pounds. Thinking about this, I walked into the hot shower water and cut myself twice; watching the blood drip down. Two cuts; one for failing to loose weight, and two for not loosing any for the second week. Once I finished cleaning the shame off my body; I got out an put antibiotics on the cuts. The last thing I wanted to happen was an infection to develop.  I get dressed in a long sleeved gray sweatshirt and a pair of short shorts. The way Mike liked it, he enjoyed seeing my legs and ass. I walked out and walked right into Mike, he stands there three feet taller than my tiny self. I cringe at the sight of him. He reaches for my body examining it. 

"You haven't lost anything again!?!" Mike questioned, "You're not trying hard enough, not good enough, your such a damn ugly fat girl!"

     "Dad please, I'm trying me best!" I beg as my hands come up automatically. Preparing to protect myself as his hand goes up in the air. I shut my eyes as the fist slams into my jaw. I cry in pain and fall to the ground. He kicks me, but he doesn't stop there. Once again I am there, wishing that I were dead, or that I were elsewhere. I don't say anything I just feel the pain, focusing all my attention on it. I finally give up to protect myself and I go limp, acting like I've been knocked out. He bends down and picks me up. he is a husky man and the smell of alcohol lying heavy on his breath. He takes me to his dark room, like always laying me down on the sheets. He cries over my bruised body, like a big drunken bastard. Finally, he kissed every my body, but it felt more like a stinging pain instead of anything close to comfort.  There was one thing he could never comfort though...the one bruise I wasn't supposed to have. The one in my heart.

     Mike leaves the room and I try to sit up. I struggle greatly, like always and just end up laying there. After the beating,  I dream about what a life with my parent would be like. They were dead years ago. Mike was my Uncle, but after the car crash and his taking me in; he has always wanted me to call him dad. In my thoughts it would beat the system. The foster system I have heard is heal for older children. They just get tossed around. He was my last relative, and I wish that he were dead now. I wish I still had my mom. I wish I still had my dad, I wish I had never made the phone call to them, that day. And I think, I deserve all of this, I deserve this for killing my parents, and that is why Mike wanted me to call him dad. Just so that he could take his little brothers place in my life. However, my father had been a good man, could never hurt a fly. He was the bravest man I remembered.

"I wish you never picked up your cell phone, I wish I were with you.....where ever you are..."  

I close my eyes, ignore the pain, and focus on getting some sleep. I just wanted to be at peace.

                                                                 ****                  *              ****

        I yawn as the sunlight reaches in through the window. Mike is sleeping next to me. He has dried tears are in the corner of his eyes, he looks innocent and harmless. I groan as I attempt to slowly get up. I quietly leave the room and head to my room. I open the pink door; only a dresser consist in there because Mike had insisted that I sleep in his bed. I pick out a blue jacket and a way too big shirt, and a short short skirt. All my bottoms were short short skirts or shorts. Mike only likes to see me in short things. I put them on and slide on my way too small pink flats. My small bony feet squeeze tight on the inside of the shoe. I slid on my heavy book bag and head out the door. I wait outside with the rest of the kids. Standing quite a big distance from them all.