• Date: 11/12/1998

    Dear Journal,

    Today, daddy decided to leave. I don't know why. He left me a box and told me I could open it whenever I missed him. Unfortunately, mother took it away from me, and threw it into a pit of flames. The box disengrated, and I saw a beautiful locket dying in the flames. I threw water on the fire frantically, but when I did so mother slapped me across the face. When she went to bed I went to the fire, and picked through the ash. I found the locket. It wasn't completely ruined, but it was dyed black, and when I opened the locket the pictures were disengrated ash. I slipped the locket in my pocket, and went to bed, holding in my tears, and rubbing it whenever I missed daddy.

    Date: 11/14/1998

    Dear Journal,

    It's been two days since daddy left me and mother. Mother has been more wild than before. Today, she told me that daddy was worthless, and never cared about me. She told me that he left because of me. I don't know why she would say that. I became worried. Is it really me that caused daddy to leave? I feel guilty. Maybe, I shouldn't exist. If I didn't exist mother and father would be happy together. Daddy wouldn't have to leave me a beautiful locket which was now ash black...

    I'm scared. Mother told me that she was going to punish me when it was 10:00pm, and that I better be in bed at that time. It's 9:30pm. What will she do to me? Maybe, I deserve it. She told me that she would make me pay for making daddy leave. She said that she'd make me pay for making this family a pit of flames. I shiver at the thought of mother's black eyes, strong arms, and thick body. I'm defenseless. Daddy can't come and save me anymore like he used to whenever mother tried to hurt me.

    I prayed to God last night. I prayed that he'd bring daddy back, and mother would be happy. I prayed for my locket to come back to life. I prayed for the pain to stop. I prayed for the guilt to go away. Nothing happened. Why?

    Date: 11/15/1998

    Dear Journal,

    I can still feel the stings. I can still hear her painful words in my ear. I can still hear her telling me to hurt myself. I can remember everything so clearly....

    I was laying in my bed, shivering. Mother came up to me. Her eyes were a midnight black, and she had a devious grin. I trembled. She laid next to me, and laid a heavy arm on my shoulder, but something about it was comforting. "Hello Charlotte..." She whispered in my ear. Her breath was hot, and smelled of something evil. "Hello mother.." I whispered back in a trembling voice. "I'm sorry..." I whispered, when she waited for me to keep speaking. She was silent for a moment, and I became afraid. I was about to say, "Mother?" When I heard her whisper, "It's your fault..." In a soft raspy voice. "I know, mother! I'm sorry!" I wailed, emotions flowing out. I heard a roar, and I felt a flat palm slam against my right cheek. My eyes widened, and I held a trembling hand to my stinging cheek. My cheek was hot, and I could feel wet tears drown my hand. "You killed this family! You should die for this!" She screamed. She hurled a fist at my face. I quickly ducked it, and rolled onto the floor right beside her feet. She kicked me with no mercy, and I could feel ribs cracking. Kill me.. I had thought. End me... "It's your fault he's gone! You worthless piece of...!" She paused, and I looked up at her, with blurry eyes. Through tearful eyes I could see a smile on her face. The same devil's one. I started believing my own mother was the devil right at that second. "You stay right here." She murmured. Her voice was dripping with honey like some fuse snapped in her brain. She opened the door slowly, and shut it so slowly and softly that it didn't make a sound. That moment I raced into my bed, hiding, and shivering.

    Mother had come back moments later. Razor sharp scissors in her hands. "Sit up." She ordered in that same honey voice. I did so, and trembled looking at the scissors. Would she stab me? Cut me? She handed me the scissors. I felt the weight of them in my hands. "Now, Charlotte, honey, put the sharp part against your wrist, and slice." She ordered, her voice still calm and sweet. "Huh?" I whispered, nervously, eying my wrist and the scissors. "Do it, dear." She muttered. Her voice was turning impatient, and I held the scissors to my wrist. I couldn't slice. How? Who would do this? She ripped the scissors out of my hand. "This is how you do it.." She muttered, her voice now raspy, and scary. She held the scissors to my wrist, and sliced with such force. My eyes widened, and I howled. Pain shot up my body, and I held my hand to my wrist. Blood was gushing. Mother slapped me. "Shut up, and do it!" She screamed, shoving the wrists in my palm. I carefully did so, hating myself every second.


    Dear Journal,

    I am so sorry I haven't written to you for awhile. Mother found my journal, and read it. She then hid it. I just found it recently. Please, know every second I could I was looking for you. Lots have changed. A week ago, mother and I went to the store. Mother treats me so differently when we are in public. She treats me like she loves me. Even though I am 10, she still holds my hand in the store, and if I let go she says, "Honey, I don't want you to get lost." In the sweetest voice she could muster. I love whenever she invites me out, but that is rare.

    So, when we went to the store, I saw daddy. He was with another women. She was beautiful. She was darker skin than us, and had long black hair that curled and twisted. Her figure was shaped just like an hourglass, and she had eyes just like mothers, but something was softer about them. I didn't see hatred. She smiled when she saw me staring. I started waving frantically to daddy, but he ignored me. "Daddy!" I called across the store. Mother looked outraged when I did so. She squeezed my hand so tight that I was afraid that my blood stream was cut off. I heard the women whisper to daddy, "You said you had no daughters. Who is this?" I saw daddy whisper something back that I couldn't hear, and lead her out the store. Mother had stormed me out of the store, taken me home, and beat me senseless.

    Mother's punishments have been worse. Just yesterday, she had ordered me to slice 10 cuts on my arm. She told me not my wrist for that would kill me. Isn't that what she wanted? For me to be dead?