• It was what I called a beautiful day, nice and cloudy, the promise of rain later in the day. I looked out the window from where I was sitting on the attic floor, knees pulled up to my chest. My heart started to race as I heard foot steps coming up the stairs to the attic and before the door opened I knew who it would be. I took deep breaths to attempt to calm myself down but I failed.

    "Stand up," she snarled at me and when I wouldn't budge she closed the distance with a few staggering steps and took a hold of my arm. "You are going to do what you're told," She said, her face inches from mine. She threw my arm back and it hit the wall. But this was nothing, the pain I meant, I knew worse was going to come.

    "Why do you do this to me?" I asked looking at her. After dad died mom had become a drunk and a drug addict, she took out all her stress and anger and any other emotion she had out on me, but not just by yelling, by physical contact. I knew the neighbors could hear what was going on this house but, like me, they were too afraid to do anything, or they just didn't care.

    I don't go to school like a child should, and I wasn't involved in music club, sports, or anything else I know I should. I used to go to school just like I used to play soccer and piano, I used to have friends I'd do these things with and hang out with after school and on the weekends, but that all changed when my dad died. Know even knows how he died and my mother never spoke about it.

    "Because you're a worthless brat who just takes up time and money!" She yelled at me and I cringed back. She took a few steps forward and grabbed my arms again. Her clenched fist came up and came back down on my arm, she did this several times over and over again, each one turning into a black and blue bruise. I don't know when it happened but I was now on the floor covering my face with arms.

    "Mom stop!" I yelled and pleaded with her as she kept hitting me and a couple time she kicked me in the ribs and I'd cough up blood. Tears mixed with blood ran down my face and the more I'd plead with her the more harder she came down on me. I screamed out and told myself over and over again that she really did love me, that she was only doing this because she was drunk or high, and that she'd only get drunk or high- sometimes both- because she was grieving for her lost husband.

    "Mom I miss him too! But it's not my fault! Stop, dad would never allow this!" I shut my mouth and looked up at her, her fist paused above her head. I shook my head and got up wincing. I ran past her and down the atic stairs. I could hear her behind me. I wished that it was a sunny day now as I burst through the front door. A rainy day meant people would be inside as a sunny day meant people would be out walking their dogs, riding their bikes, kids playing in the streets.

    I coughed again blood running from my mouth, my hair tangled around me, my clothes torn, my arms and legs and torso bruised already. I landed on the ground blacking out for just a moment but the pain of my head hitting the ground didn't let me black out all the way.

    "Somebody help!" I screamed coughing and wincing and groaning on the ground. I could barely hear my mother's foot steps approach me. She bent down and whispered something I could barely understand, whether it was because her words were slurred or I was about to pass out- or even both mixed together- I couldn't tell.

    "Don't mentionyour father and don't come back. Ever." She called and I could hear the door slam behind her. I started breathing heavily as I pulled my knees up to my chest and my vision started to blur and spot with blackness. I was sobbing now and I didn't know if it was because I was in too much pain not to black out or die, if it was because of my loss for my father, or if it was because of my mom. I didn't know. But now I do know that if I do somehow stay alive I wouldn't be able to trust anyone for a long, long time.

    Finally my vision disappeared and I no longer felt anything around me.