I'm Sorry

The Big Mess

        It started about a year ago. The arguements that torment me to this day. The words that my parents would say to eachother, they still haunt my mind. It made me depressed. It also made me do things I didn't think I'd ever end up doing. It turned me into someone that I never thought I would become. It tore me apart. It tore my life apart. I am not the same as I used to be, and I don't think I ever will be. It just may be his fault too, partially someone else's too.
       I could've sworn that I knew my parents loved eachother. I knew it. Not only based off of the sole fact that they would tell eachother it, but becuase they showed it. They looked at eachother with love. It showed in their eyes. The small actions that they did, they showed how much they loved eachother. I always wanted a relationship like theirs. At least, I thought I did. I remember sitting in bed at night just listening to them argue, and then not even ten minutes later the apologies would come. I also remember all of the things that they said though. This one statement in particular though. It hurts me more than anything else in the world. Probably becuase it was the last thing I ever heard either of my parent say.
          It was about 11: 30 at night. I woke up to a glass shattering and my mom screaming "I hate you" at my dad. What was said next though haunts me to this day. My father said " I don't hate you though. I hate what we made together. That thing that sits in her room all the time." It hurt. It really did. I cried. And I fell back asleep. I then remember waking up again. Not to screaming this time though, but to the smell of smoke. I jumped up and ran to my door trying to escape the fire. My mom and dad, I couldn't find them. All I could even remember though was "that thing" coming out of my father's mouth. After looking at them, everything went black.
           I woke up in a white and very bright room. I thought I was in a hospital. I was so wrong though. My eyes adjusted to the light and I saw that there were no windows and that I was lying in a bed. I heard footsteps coming and I screamed. I screamed for help. All that I got in return though was silence, also a very painful slap from the person walking when they came into my room. I was so scared. I mean, I was kidnapped. This was my worst fear come true. All I knew is that I was going to die. The last thing I saw was the man bringing a needle to my side before I passed out again.
          I couldn't tell you how long I was there for. It might've been days, weeks months even. I couldn't remember. It didn't matter though. I knew I was going to die here. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like anyone was waiting for me to come "home". I found out that my parents died in the fire, along with my happiness. I am not the same. Not after my father called me a "thing". If I weren't so depressed, I would be trying to find a way out of this place. An escape. I just don't see the point though. I don't see the point un trying anymore. I learned not to fight back though. I tried it once,  but I just got beat in return.
     The man came to me 5 times a day. 3 times out of the 5, it was for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Another time was for my daily beating and the last time was for the sedation. The sedation always scared me. I knew he stayed in the room when I was knocked out. I didn't know what he did though. That is what scared me most.
      One day, just as the man was about to give me lunch I heard yelling. I heard what I thought were cops. I thought I would get out alive. I wasn't wrong either. Next thing I knew, I was being rushed to the hospital. I heard yelling and all I could see was white. I remember the doctor asking me questions and all I could do was groan in response. (FAST FOWARDS TO AFTER SURGERY) I found out that I had 3 broken ribs, fractured wrist, sprained ankle and a broken toe. I had a concussion too. They had to do surgery on my ankle. The officers came in and asked me questions. I answered as many as I could.
I had gone into depression. I had to take medication for it. I had to see a shrink every Wednesday and Friday. I never talked to him though. We just sat there. This Wednesday though, it was different. When I got into his room, there was an officer, a man and a woman, and of course the shrink was there too. They ended up telling me that I was gonna live with the man and woman. That they were going to adopt me. I was scared, but also ready for a fresh start.
      The man and woman have adopted three other kids. All my age too. I live with them. They know everything I have gonw through. The don't argue a lot. And the man, he doesn't call me "Thing". They treat me good. The whole family does. I am no longer in depression. I am happy. I have a life now. I have goals.