Long Road Through Hell..

    Now most people would say life is a lovely thing to have, well I guess that’s just a matter of opinion my dear friend. Life for me was a living hell, I probably didn’t have the worst life out there but the memories are seared into my mind. The memories of all the torture haven’t managed to dissipate a single bit, just as vivid as the day they happened. Here’s what I know as the worst of what has happened to me throughout the ages of 4-11.

    I was four years old when the horror of life came to me, gently pushing the laundry room door open till it creaks. Turning my head to make sure my father isn’t nearby, I see nothing but the roaches scattered among the floor. Delicately I step into the room and gather my clothes for the day as I was told to do so nearly 5 minutes before. I hear a door creak open then the heavy footsteps of my very agitated father comes towards me. All I see is his hands make their way around my neck then I feel myself pushed back onto the floor my head hitting the tiles and my lungs gasping for air. Hearing his deep growly voice tearing at my eardrums yelling for me to hurry and get dressed or he shall be late for work. My head being bashed against the hard linoleum floor and the choking grip being released as he walks away more than agitated. Laying there gasping for air and trying to get my vision back in focus as I am utterly discombobulated at why I was treated such a way, by someone who was supposed to care..

    Climbing into the Rumbling truck, hearing it shift into gear always scared me. The sputter of the engine was too loud to even hear myself think.  We sit in the vehicle silently as we continue the vigorous ride to the day care center. Turning the corner as the day care began to slip into view, getting to see the very few people that made my day worth wild always made me smile. Knowing that it was my only time away from the place I’d furthermore know as Hell.

  Jumping down from the small pick-up and running to the door of the day care with a big smile across my face. They welcomed me and introduced me to other kids there that were my age, soon those kids were to be known as some of my only friends. But only one of those many would end up staying by my side through all the years I would be in the living hell.

Age of Six-

   The sun beamed down on the ground as a slight breeze made the heat tolerable. Making our way outside and sitting on the soft grass as we begin to pluck up the weeds and make bracelets and other creative kid like things. Father comes outside and yells at us to get back into the house, my sister does as told, and I chose to refuse this command. He yells at me once more to get into the house, I stand there in protest until he begins chasing me around the yard and into the street. The people who lived across the street are peering through their window curtains at what is happening. I rush into the house and lock myself in the bathroom for a few minutes so he can’t get to me. Opening the door a crack, just enough to peek out and see if he is there, he wasn’t so I stepped out into the living room. He comes towards me and pushes me to the ground, I lay there on my stomach as he pulls my hands behind my back with his boot between my shoulder blades hearing the bones begin to crack beneath my skin. He pulls my shoulder out of place and laughs maniacally about the torture he has just put me through. My sister walks into the room then walks away trying not to believe what she has just seen happen. I lay there as the carpet begins to absorb the pool of tears I have been crying for the past 5 minutes he has been screaming into my ears. He takes his boot off of my back kicks me over and grabs me by my throat and slams me up against the glass bookcase, my head shattering the glass as the shards dig into my skin. Slowly I became dizzy, everything was beginning to blur, the pain that seared through my skull and down my spine barely kept me conscious. His low growling voice barely audible but yet I managed to make out some of what he had said.

    His grip slowly releases as I fall to the floor in tears gasping as I can finally breathe. Watching him walk away and slam his bedroom door behind him, hearing the sound of objects being thrown, glass being shattered and him cursing aloud.

Age of 7-

    Walking through the long yard of luscious grass just to arrive at the place I was suppose to call home. Hauling a backpack full of a math pamphlet and a small reading book as well as an art box. Waiting inside the house patiently with my father’s new girlfriend who had came off creepy to me. She finally leaves the house and I am to be stuck with someone who is supposed to be caring, who is supposed to be called a father.. Hearing his truck pull up to the house with its roaring engine, the gears shifting back into neutral scared me every day because I knew I didn’t want to be there when he was.

    He walks into the house irritated, I asked him a simple question because it was 6pm, where was dinner and when.. Furiously his hands gripped my throat being picked up and pushed back against the door, my back going numb from the pain of the doorknob against my spine. His face close to mine in a raspy voice he threatens me as he flings me out of his room and I hit my head upon the bookshelf. There alone with that monster, and the monster I call myself. Feeling a warm liquid upon my scalp I place a gentle hand on it to see luminescent velvety blood cover my hand. Rushing to the bathroom as the nausea settles in, the blood covers the back of my head glistening as it glides down my neck staining what was once my favorite shirt. No one to ask for help, no one to care, a sister that didn’t want to be here and believe what goes on.

    A few weeks later my younger brother asked for my father’s help, he pushed him over and out of his way as he made his way to the beer fridge. Me, usually sitting upon it to stay out of trouble as well as out of his way was curled up sleeping. Feeling a hand grasp my ankle and pull me down hitting my jaw on the edge of the fridge then my head hitting the hard linoleum floor, feeling a drizzle of blood from my forehead glide down my face. Being kicked till I rolled over, just so he could smirk and crush my wrists beneath his boots. Calyx only about 4 comes over and sits next to me as tears begin to slide down my face, hugging me gently as he senses my pain and misery he mocks my father’s usual words...Told him to Fuck off, all I saw was a little helpless child being thrown out a back door onto cement and roll off a 4 ft drop onto the dirt. I struggle to stand up, reaching for a plate and climbing onto the table I smash it over his head. He turns around furiously, I trip jumping off the wooden surface and fall onto my knees and sprint for the door, he throws a book at my head and hits me in the spine. Collapsing to the floor, he walks over to me then turns me over with his foot and places his boot on my throat and presses down until I lose consciousness.

Waking up to the crying of calyx because of something my father had done, asking him what had happened and watching my father’s face turn red and him storm towards us. Standing up and placing myself in front of calyx staring into the eyes of the creature I didn’t want to face. Slowly I back up and nudge him towards the dog door and hoping he hides in the brush so that he won’t be found and hurt.

Age of 9-

    Happily riding my scooter through my grandparent’s house with my siblings and cousin, my scooter being ripped out from under me as I fall back onto the hard kitchen floor. He raised the scooter above his head and one after another he hits me with the steel thing. My cousin’s eyes begin to fill with tears, my nose begins to stream blood feeling the bruises begin to form on my skin. Kicking is shin as he falls over, biting through his coat to his flesh smiling as the blood flows to the surface. A brutal hand pulls me back as I send out a loud growl and my grandfather releases me. My father rises from the floor I kneel there growling and tears rolling down my face my eyes begin to redden he kicks my head and I fall over. His boot crushes my hands the bones cracking, skin slowly being torn apart under the pressure of his foot. His boot lifts off my hands, I turn look at Brendon to see the tears pouring down his face, my grandfather holding Jasah back so she doesn't get involved. He pushes a barstool over on top of me and the snapping of my ribs breaks the silence. Struggling to push the bar stool off of me and giving up because I knew there was more pain to come..

    Grabbing me by my feet and dragging me out to the backyard over the rocks as they ripped away at my skin and bruising the skin. Pressing my face to the hot chainlink fence that surrounded the pool area, crying from the scorching pain of the hot metal against my skin. Being tossed onto the concrete using a wooden table to pull myself up off the ground as he grabs a wooden plank and smacks the center of my back. Cringing from the pain and falling over once again as he stares at me with no guilt or remorse in his eyes, just the hatred that he always had. Feeling his boot crush my side as I am kicked into the pool out of breath and gasping for air. Slowly sinking to the bottom of the pool but struggling so much to swim back up. All the pain I am in restricts my efforts to try, losing my last breath ever so quickly and becoming unconscious. ..

    Jasah slams back against our grandfather causing him to hit the stove and release her from his grip, she runs outside over the rocky cement. Climbing over the hot metal chain link fence like it wasn’t even there. Brendon running close behind her he climbs the fence right behind her. Jasah jumps in and swims to the center of the pool grabs the back of my shirt and drags me to the surface. Brendon offering her a hand out of the water and pulling my motionless body onto the cement. Brendon looks at Jasah with tears streaming down his face she looks down at me and waits hoping I will be okay. I begin to cough up the water that was in my lungs onto the hot cement. Jasah and Brendon smile and help me to sit up on the concrete, they both glare at who was supposed to be my father but is nothing more than a leech. Blood slowly drips from my lower lip, the taste so bittersweet.

    Age 11-

    Waking up as usual to the beeping of our alarm clock, then the screaming of our father’s voice that surged through the house. Getting ready for school like every other day, trying to find a decent shirt or pair of jeans that isn’t ripped, that doesn’t have blood on it or is actually cleaned. He walks into the living room grabs our backpacks throws them out the front door I rush to get a book from my room on top of the dresser. Hearing his boots on the floor with every step he takes, then feeling his hand grip the back of my neck and carry me to the front door and throwing me out onto the hard concrete of the porch. Falling and hitting my head on a wooden column, acting like nothing had happened I get up and place a fake smile on my face so people won’t suspect the things I have gone through that morning or any other day.

    Standing at the corner waiting for the bus to arrive, we stand there talking to our friends about random things. Running around without a care in the world smiling and laughing not even knowing that it may be the last time I will ever see them. Not knowing that It would be the last time I would smile let alone laugh.

    Walking home from the corner of the street with my loyal dog Bingo. His dark chocolate fur shines under the sunlight, his tail in air waving majestically as he pranced beside me. Waving to my friends as they walked into their perfect homes, a smile upon my face, seeing a cop car pulled up at the corner the smile disappeared from my face. Walking inside the house like nothing had happened the weekend before that day. My brothers mother arriving to pick them up she walks right into the house. The officer approaches the house and knocks and calmly asks if our so called father is home and when he shall return to the house. We wait patiently as she calls him you can hear the panic and tears in her voice. My father’s voice trembles with rage towards the officer and the Social Worker from the seat of his truck.

    Trembling at the sound of his truck being put into neutral,seeing the anger in his eyes made me begin to cry. Rushing to my room and grabbing my blue blanket my mother had given me when I was little. Holding it to my face and using it to wipe away the tears that stung as they glided down my face. Watching my brothers hold onto their mother with tears in their eyes, I sit in the doorway and drape my blanket around my shoulders and glance up at my sister standing in the doorway as tears begin to swell in her eyes. Being forced into a police car and watching the life I once had and the people I once knew fade away as We drove into the distance, leaving the only thing I cared for behind...Bingo he sat there in the doorway his tail stopped wagging and he began to run after the vehicle. Before he made it to the edge of the yard snowflake with her white fur and black patch around her eye sprinted past him barking as we left. They sat at the corner of the road their tails motionless and their ears down with panic in their eyes, Bingo let out a howl, being able to hear it for blocks.

    Sitting in the DHS office for 4 hours, stomach cramping from the hunger. Hearing Jessica talk with some lady and the tears in her voice broke through the wall.  Finally leaving, but not going where we were hoping to be going. The long vigorous drive two hours away to a childrens shelter with our brothers beside us. Calyx leaning on my arm crying himself to sleep, trying to cheer him up by saying that we will be closer to our grandparents house. I’ll always remember the smile that was put upon his face at that moment. Yet I knew for me there was never going to be a place for me to call home, the friends I had I knew they wouldn’t even notice if I was gone.

    Being woken up by the sound of the engine turning off, seeing a building that was cream colored  with padlocked doors before me, I knew this wasn’t going to be a good 2 months. All  could tell myself was Welcome to hell The train to home departs Never. Looking over at my sister and my brothers as the lady opens the trunk and yells for us to get out of the car. Throwing my bag and Calyx’s bag over my shoulder and his hand grasping mine. Looking down and seeing the terror in his eyes. Walking through the door having our bags taken and searched, I didn’t see a point in searching it because all that was in them were a blanket and a stuffed animal. Being forced to leave my brothers alone to fend for themselves in this place we were supposed to consider home for now. He tries to hold onto my hand with all the strength he had in his tired aching body. His hand slips away from mine as he disappears behind the doors. Hearing him cry and yell for me, one memory that shall never fade from my scarred mind. The sadness that engulfed his emotions soon overcame mine as I fell to my knees in tears.

    They force me back onto my feet and through a set of doors. Looking around me to find my sister and seeing nothing but the walls on either side of me and some strange lady behind me, she was fairly young but yet she looked so odd to me. Being checked for scars, cuts, bruises and anything else like birthmarks on my scrawny body. They shove me to a room with 4 beds one in each corner. Getting only one blanket and a pillow for the cold nights I soon didn’t sleep much then none at all. Developing the paranoia I now struggle with.

    There wasn't much of school at all, We just walked 50 feet behind the main building to a smaller building. Within that smaller building was a few different rooms, One was for the kindergarten through 3rd grade, then there was the 4th grade through 5th, seventh through 12th. We sat in the rooms doing nothing, forced to sit in silence like an endless punishment, feeling like I should have never written in that notebook. I should have kept my mouth shut about everything, just knowing I will lose my brothers and never see them again, No one knew where we were and no one ever will.

    A few weeks faded by as we got used to the strange place and all the other people like us that occupy it. We are told to grab our things as well as we will be sent back to Clarksville. Thinking it was another foster home to rot in, we were wrong. Being stuck in a car for over 3 hours, we turn into a long gravel driveway. There was a flower bed on either side of the steps leading up to the porch.Walking up the steps to the white door and meeting Ms.Chris as she welcomes us with a smile and introduced us to her family. Me and Kaylan were put in a room together, well obviously because we are sisters so either way we wouldn't want to be separated from one another. There was only one bed, but it was relatively big I don’t recall what size it was but I just know it was bigger than a twin. There was a Mirror in the room that I couldn’t stand, but I couldn’t stand being in the room even more. It always felt like there were eyes peering into my mind. When you walked in you knew you weren’t alone at all, it was awkwardly disturbing.

    Since we were staying on the outskirts of Clarksville we had returned to our old schools. Kaylan was back in Junior high and I had returned to my place among the crowd at Kraus Middle School. Only one person noticed I was even gone and that was my friend Alexis, she is the only one that was excited to see me again. She welcomed me back with a hug and tears of joy, she thought I wasn’t coming back. Considering we were taken without a warning and no one knew where we were. Even then No one knew all the pain I had been through day in and day out all those years I had spent there with such people..