The Lord's Prayer

I'm about to be in the fifth grade, and I don't care. I care for nothing anymore. Now, I try to be bad. I no longer minded her punishments. In fact, I welcomed them. I wanted to die. This life, or whatever you want to call it, it worthless. I'm worthless. I have begun to believe there is no God for me. There can't be. How could God let me suffer like this? I have done nothing but remained strong. All of these years, I kept the Lord close to my heart. I've done nothing but pray for help. He's given my nothing.  If there is a God, I hate him. I realize what else I hate... everything. I hate my mother with a passion. I could only wish death upon her. Sometimes, at night, I would try to calculate how soon she would die, in hopes to gain freedom. I hate my brothers because she didn't beat them and because the just stood by - watching. They were her servants. I hate my coward father for leaving me like this. I hate this madhouse. I hate my life. It was living Hell, and I hated it all. Most of all, I hate myself. I hate myself for not being stronger. For not standing up to her. For being so pathetic. I was cold heartened and knew nothing but hatred before I've even entered the fifth grade. I have come to realize, there is no salvation for me. And even though I have decided God doesn't exist - I still find myself praying to him. Asking. Begging. For anything.

While Father is Away

Even though my father had failed me in the past, I still believed him to be my protector. This was simply because, at the end of the day - things were clearly worse when father is away. Mother is even more cruel, and I get nastier punishments.Unfortunately, father is slowly and slowly drifting away from this madhouse, leaving me in the rear-view mirror. I don't exactly blame him, though. Even when he was home, he was forbidden to spend time with me. Mother said he gave me "too much attention." This sucked every morsel of hope out of me. Father was all that I had, and he had just been ripped away.When he was away, Mother fed me even less. I remember, once, going without food for ten days. She made sure I had no way of stealing it either. Mother liked to mock my misery. She'd lay a big plate of food in front of me, and right before I could dig in - she'd say I was taking too long and snatch the plate away. By now, her punishments got worse. She created a home made gas chamber in our bathroom, just for me. This nearly scared me to death the first time, but I've gotten used to it. Though it does slow down my pace, and if my chores don't get done on time it would mean more punishments. When she didn't feel like punishing me, she'd send me out to do neighbor hood yard work. She liked this for two main reasons. One, It got me out of the house, which gave her a "break." And two, I made money for her. One time, an old woman gave me a sack of lunch. As it never fails, Mother caught me. My punishment was new. She put me in the tub filled with freezing cold water for hours. Then, she'd make me dress myself without drying myself off (this soaked my clothes) and sent me out back to sit id the shade for the remainder of the evening. This was the worst of punishments. I hated it. Towards the end of the summer, Mother stopped this nonsense. She spoke to me with the loving heart I once knew. She said she was sorry and wanted to forget all of the bad things that happened between us. She wanted to end it, and she wanted to apologize. I couldn't believe it. She even told me she loved me! I couldn't tell you how excited I was. I expected it to be over by the morning, but it wasn't. It wasn't until the next day when a nice woman came. She was from Children Services. She asked us a series of questions, and I replied all with a smile. Ever since Mother said she loved me, I'd had a warm spot in my tummy. The woman asked me if Mother ever beat me. Then it hit me. Things aren't really over. This was all a cover up. Mother had tricked me. How could I be so stupid? I told to woman Mother punished me, but only when I was bad. The second she walked out of the door, Mother gave me that look. That "I hate you and I'm about to show you what hate it" look. Which only proved my newly discovered theory. How could I let this happen? I should have known. I should have gone with my gut. I truly hated myself for this one. I then knew that the only thing I could do, is accept my fate. After that, my father moved away. Away, away. Mother and Father separated. I could no longer hope to be saved by him. It was a lost cause. I have feared my life, and half felt relieved that soon enough I'd just be dead. 

The Accident

The school year seemed to go by pretty fast. Which most kids like... but not me. Unlike everyone else - summer does not bring me friends, vacations, late nights watching movies or the summer skies. Summer brings me Hell. All day, stuck at home being Mother's slave. By now, I'm used to her punishments. But, I try to be as obedient as possible, because I know it wouldn't take long for her to whip up some new, dreadful, punishments. Just as the school year passed, so were my days of stealing food. During the summer, I'm hardly ever given the chance to eat. If I'm lucky, I'll get a couple nibbles every couple days. On one particular day, she -as usual- called me up after dinner to clean the kitchen. She seemed angry, and started screaming at me. For some strange reason, I knew something was off. I couldn't quite put my finger on it though, so I just continued to listen to her. Screaming and screaming at me. She even raised a knife to threaten me, but I didn't too scared. I know how her games work now. Finally, she commanded eye contact. I slowly raised my head to meet her eyes. And I knew instantly what was off. It was Mother, herself! I could tell by the look in her eyes. She began to wobble, and I froze. Do I ask if she's okay? Do I try to help stabilize her? Just as reality hit me, I saw something coming at me from the corner of my eye. Suddenly, I felt a horribly sharp pain just above my stomach. I couldn't believe my eyes... she stabbed me. I hurled over to the floor and everything went black. I woke up in the bath room. Mother was by my side, trying to stop the bleeding and clean me up. Though she practiced to be a nurse, I knew this was too much for her to handle. In a matter of seconds, I realized this very well could be the end! She'll have to take me to the hospital now. And no lie, no matter how great, can get her out of this. They'll catch her this time. I'll finally escape this living Hell. But, to my surprise, she just sat there. Cleaning my up - dressing my wound. She had determination in her eyes. Then, I knew she intended to keep this our little secret. There was no hospital in my future. No salvation. My shirt was completely and utterly soaked with my, now cold, blood. After I could stand, I still had to finish the kitchen. I found it nearly impossible to stand, walk, and even breathe. Mother did give me a glass of water and a few bites of food. Then she let me go out with my brothers and light sparklers. I soaked up the suns warmth, just before watching it set. I couldn't believe it. And I even woke up to her giving my cold cloths during the night. She told me I had a fever, but I already knew that much. I wouldn't dare ask for an advil. Mother even slept in my brothers basement room, so she was closer to me. This made me feel safe. I couldn't help but to think... could this really be the end? Will I be part of the family again? In the morning, I came to realize nothing had changed. I woke up to her telling me to clean the kitchen. Before I did so, I checked my wound. I hurt so bad, still. And as soon as I looked at it, I could tell why. It was swollen with puss and looked like something out of a horror movie. I managed to clean myself up - even though I wanted to puke from how bad it hurt. I thought 'Superman can do it, so can I,' and I did! I cleaned myself pretty well. I couldn't really show or even feel proud to the fullest, for how horribly bad I still ached. But, I am alive, am I not? I then knew I truly could survive anything.