I need to get out of here. The beatings have
gotten almost unbearable, and the
medicine is foul. Only a week and I'll be
sixteen.
I want to be outside. I want to feel the grass
beneath my feet. The flowers beneath my
fingertips. To feel the wind in my hair and
the sun on my skin.
I want to sit without worry of punishment.
To eat something that actually consists of
food. I want to feel free.