Living With Six Boys

chapter 1

I was at the age of 7 when my mother started beating me. My dad died when I was 7 because he was shot when trying to save a little girls life. The little girl lived but my dad had to be the one to die. Ever since then my mom has hit me. I am 14 now and I go to public school. School is the only time I get away from my mother so I enjoy it.

I don't have many friends. I spend most of my time reading in the libraries of New York instead of hanging out with friends. I drown myself in books as long as I can. It helps me to forget about what goes on at home.

I walk on the busy streets of New York, on my way home from the library. I don't take the books home because my mother doesn't like books and she hates me reading them. So I just don't tell her when I go to read.

I trip over the stairs up to my patio. I catch myself on the ledge and I walk inside. My mom is passed out on the couch with beer bottles all around her. I silently tip toe up the stairs to my room. I step into my bland bedroom. The walls are cream colored and I have sky blue sheets on my bed and white pillows with no covers. I don't have many things in my room because my mom doesn't care to buy me things. All I really have is a box of things from my father. I have scrapbooks I made in there with my dad. I have finger paintings that we both made together. My favorite thing in there is my golden heart necklace with a picture of him holding me up to the sky, we both loved to dance together and it was always cute when I would step on his toes while he moved his feet because I couldn't move my own.

I sigh and look away from my closet. I walk over to my bed and climb under the covers. My alarm clock says it's 7 o'clock. I decided to fall asleep early tonight so I won't have to deal with my mother until morning.

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I wake up to the sound of bottles being thrown. I hear my mom crying, I walk out of my room and look down to check the premises. There are shards of glass all over the floor and my mom is in tears. She has these breakdowns sometimes. She still can't get over my dad, she loved him and we used to be a happy family. She only hits me because I remind her of him.

I start to walk away and I hear the stair creek. She turns to look at me.

"What are you looking at?! This is your fault!"

She screams at me and then she grabs a bottle and she throws it right at me. It hits me right in the head; blood is rushing down my face. I don't dare to stand up while she is still looking at me. Moments later she grabs her keys and a bottle of beer and she storms outside. I quickly get up and I grab a towel. I wet it with water and I hold it up to the corner of my face. I crouch down against the empty cupboard and I start crying. I sit there in my own tears and blood. I think of grabbing the knife and ending this right now, but then I remind myself that my dad is watching over me and he wouldn't want me to end this life. My life is too valuable to end, I was put on this planet for a reason and I have yet to find that reason.

The blood starts to slow down and I put one of these huge band aids on it. I throw the towel in the washer and I turn on the machine. I walk back up to my room and I grab a sweater with holes in it and some jeans. I keep my long brown hair down so it's in my face and covering most of the band aid.

I turn towards the door and I leave the house. I walk down the streets towards the library. I know the way by heart to the library. It takes 20 minutes to get there by foot. I like looking around at the things around the city, like the worried people trying to get cabs or the squirrels in the park or the tourists on their way to the statue of liberty. It's a dream to be in New York and most people think that the people living here are important but they don't realize that there's people like me who live here, who mean nothing at all.

I walk up the concrete stairs into the library. I plop myself onto a chair at a computer. I search for a good read. I plan on sitting here all day so I need to find a good read. I pick out the notebook. I go to find the book and I grab it. I lay down on the bean bag and I start reading. The library is silent and easy to read in. It's also a safe environment; that's why I like coming here.

I dive into my book and I explore through the wonderfully written pages. I start to cry when I reach the end of the book. I close the book and I look at the clock on the wall. It's a quarter to seven. I put the book back on the shelf and I wave goodbye to the librarian that I see often. I start down the stairs and I walk down the streets towards my house.

I turn the corner and I see flashing lights at my house. I run towards the house. The door is busted open and there are cops searching inside, one makes eye contact with me as I step inside.