I opened my tear-blurred eyes to another beating. This time it was a whip and I was on my knees. I didn’t let out a scream, it would only make things worse. If he saw that I was weak and in pain he would just hit me harder. When he was done he left the house to cool off, leaving me on the floor to cry. As I rose from my stance on the floor I walked blindly to the upstairs bathroom to clean the new wounds. This happened every day, some are worse than others, this was somewhere in the middle. After I finished cleaning the cuts from the whip I walked up the last flight of stairs to my “bedroom”, it was the attic. I’m adopted, and my “parents” are the worst kind. They treat me awfully, hurt me, and are just mean. Whipped, kicked, punched, hit, cussed too. How much can one girl take before …show more content…
I guess I cover it up easily with a smile and make-up. People think that just because you smile and say you are fine, that that is the truth. Everyone has their secrets, mine is a pain. Silly me, here I am saying so much and you don’t even know my name. My name is Thea, but people call me Thee. I am now 14 years old as of tomorrow. I have 2 older brothers. There is Aaron, the oldest of us three, 16 years old; he has light brown hair with vibrant blue eyes. Then there is Evan, the second oldest, 16 years old; he has brown hair like Aaron and deep and intense green eyes. Did I mention their twins? Aaron was born first. Then there is me, the youngest and most vulnerable. I have black hair and enchantingly vibrant violet eyes, very rare, and apparently, that is one of the reasons I am a target. My parents died when I was only a few months old, so I was told. They died in a fire, saving me and a note they had left. I never could muster the courage to read it, but Evan and Aaron read it every now and then. I lived with only a scar on my cheek from a pretty nasty cut. Sometimes I will get nightmares about that night, even though I was only a
When I was twelve years old, a close friend of mine passed away. At first, I didn’t know how to process what was happening. How can someone I’ve known for the majority of my life be gone? But then it finally hit me. My friend was really gone. There would be no more days challenging
In August 2005, at the tender age of 7, I received the most devastating news. I was told by my family that a hurricane was coming to my city, New Orleans, Louisiana. Because of this storm, Hurricane Katrina, I was told that I would most likely have to move away for a long time, meaning the rest of my life. My family and I lost everything, and the hurricane ended up destroying the entire city completely. This was heartbreaking to me for a plethora of reasons, including that I lost loved ones and was separated from the rest of my family at such an early age. This ravaging storm marked the most drastic change of my life.
Billy Thompson and Sam Westfield were similar in many ways. Since a young age they both has excelled at sports and both loved more then anything, the sport of football. While growing up, the boys did not know each other and probably thought they would never have too. But all of that changed with the diagnosis.
Many girls of different ages fantasize about the perfect wedding, perfect husband, a gorgeous dress, and the happiness to come after the wedding. At one point I was just like these girls. I saw marriage as a paradise that everybody should experience. Around tenth- grade, my rose tinted glasses were removed and I witnessed just how bad a marriage could get to the point of divorce. The divorce my parents went through, changed my entire view on monogamy. I now see marriage in a more realistic point of view and that it is not an easy journey as I once had thought it was.
I'm Josh Johnson Jr. , oldest son of politions Josh & Julia Johnson. I also have a few siblings their names are William, Julia, and Maredith. I'm 13 years old, William is 11 years old, and Julia and Maredith are twins they're 9 years old. I the nerdy and techy person, William is an very active and sporty, Julia is very organized, and Maredith is a make-up person.
Personal Narrative: The World The world is a messed up place and we are all stuck here until our lives are through, or until we choose to leave. It's strange that I go along with everything everyone tells me, such as that I should wear certain clothes or listen to certain songs. I often wonder why I do the things I do, but then I just realize that's who I am. People are confused about why they are here, and they don't understand what life is supposed to be about.
As I regained my consciousness, my face was throbbing with pain and my nose was bleeding. I tried to clean the blood off my face, but realized my hands and legs were tied up. I sat upright and looked around me. My house was a mess; everything was either broken, or gone. . . . I had been robbed.
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate.
I had awoken to the sound of a crow. The summer rays streamed in through my bedroom window. There was a sudden slam on my bedroom door. Confused and annoyed, my stepdad grunted aggressively and slammed on the door once more. He got out his leather belt and whipped me with it. When she left, I felt as if a huge burden weighed me down. The abuse of my stepfather had left irremovable scars, both physically and
went to sit down on the sofa. A few minuets later my food was ready
“If the iron be blunt, and he do not whet the edge, then must he put to more strength: but wisdom is profitable to direct.” Ecclesiastes 10:10.
A little background history of the urgency this book places in my heart towards the broken. I grew up in a single parent home, my mom divorced my adulterous abusive father after she (and inadvertently us) experienced some injurious abuse leaving her hospitalized. This was just the beginning of the violence I would experience and see as a ‘women’ in this world. Now a child of a single parent home, the violence was turned towards me, first starting with my brother’s endless abuse, not your average sibling rivalry, rather pretending to drown me, suffocate me, sitting on me. As my brother became harder to control, it was my mom’s abuse towards the two of us physical, mental and the neglect. As my mother’s boyfriend moved in with us, then begin more of the abuse
On the day my father died, I remember walking home from school with my cousin on a November fall day, feeling the falling leaves dropping off the trees, hitting my cold bare face. Walking into the house, I could feel the tension and knew that something had happened by the look on my grandmother’s face. As I started to head to the refrigerator, my mother told me to come, and she said that we were going to take a trip to the hospital.
Growing up my family lived a "double-life". To the outside world, I had the most loving and respected family the whole town knew and loved but closed doors it was hell. My father physically and verbally abused me, my siblings and my mother for a very long time. My father would beat me up with a phone cable until drops of blood were falling off of me for little things I would do wrong such as getting dirty outside or playing with little boys. My mother would sometimes join my father when it was time to hit my siblings and me. I knew by the way force of the beatings of my parents ' were doing to me it was a stress reliever more than teaching me how to respect them. My mother hardly disagrees with my father because the moment she would it is when my father would beat her and rape her in their room. I thought that was okay my mom would come out with a bruise on her face after they left their room because my mom would tell me " We like to play a lot with each other, no worry my child". My grandparents who lived with my family did...