The Complicated Mind of a Twelve Year Old Girl

A Handfull of Death

                "I can't do this anymore." I felt dead, which was hopefully what I was going to be in the morning. I had just swallowed over thirteen different pills, I felt dizzy, and I thought I was about to pass out. Everything was so, unclear. My room was spinning, and my heart was pounding against my chest. I stumbled across my room, and tripped on my backpack. I fell to the floor, and watched everything fade into a black mist.

                               "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" I heard my Father scream. It was six thirty a.m., well past the time I was supposed to be awake. "AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THE FLOOR, YOU STUPID SKANK?!" Then, a massive force kicked me in the stomach, as I screamed in pain. "You have five minutes, and you better be downstairs by then, or you know what will happen when you get home." he told me with a look of disgust in his face. I knew either way I was going to get hurt again. I had to get up, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of me laying there unable to stand. I tried to regain my breath, as I stood up slowly. I felt a force throw me against the wall. My head bounced back, as I fell once again to the floor. "You're pathetic." He whispered in my ear.  

                             I didn't have time to get dressed, so I had to wear the same outfit as yesterday. I was sweaty, and bruised. It hurt to walk, because every step I took, searing pain shot through my entire body, I groaned every time I got out of my seat. That wasn't even the worst part, the kids around me hurt most of all. I could hear them laugh at me and say, "Look at her, she is wearing the same thing she wore yesterday." And they would giggle non-stop. Through the entire day I heard laughs and giggles. Not only would they laugh at me, but they would hit me across the head, kick me on my legs, and punch my stomach (Which was still tender.). But school, was my safe place, at least the kids didn't hurt as bad as my Dad.

                   "Scout, may I speak with you privately please?" my teacher asked. Everyone in the class started laughing and saying, "Oooohhhhh, she's in trouble...." I tried to fight the tears as best I could. My teacher led me into the hall, "Scout, are you okay? I'm just, worried about you, you seem to be in a daze and your grades have gone from A's to C's, and you look like you haven't slept in days." I tried to put on the best smile I could possibly make, "Of course I'm alright, I'm just tired, lately I've been having a hard time sleeping, that's all. That's why my grades are low, I will try and get better sleep." I lied.

                I felt anxiety build up inside me again, the last bell had rung. I couldn't pull another trick like yesterday, that would make the beatings worse. I grabbed my binder and books, held them against my chest as tightly as possible, and let my hair hang down so I could hide my face. I haltingly walked down the hall, as two boys ran behind me and pushed me on to the ground, as they laughed and ran away. I stood up, ignoring the oppressive pain in my stomach, and continued down the hall. I stepped outside into the dark. The smell of fresh rain filled my senses, as I walked unwillingly into his car. Back into Hell, back into pain, back into his torture.