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.