The Day I Was ForgottenA Story by Dead Girl WritingThe day I was forgottenOne night my mom's boyfriend, Chance, started threatening my
life - he told me that he would slit my throat and break my neck - and that it
would be worth the jail time. When mom tried to protect me from him, he swore that she
would be dead in the river with me. She stopped protesting after that - she had
never learned how to swim. Then Chance started in with even threats; trying to break us
down the only way he knew how, like calling me a "half-dead
m**********r!" (At that time I was really suicidal and too deep into
depression.) When he got really violent, mom ran upstairs to get her
drugs out of the house so we could call the police. I followed Chance and Mom
up the stairs, got in his face, and started screaming at him. "I'm not
scared of you and you need to leave. Now!" Well, obviously, that only made
him angrier. He went to grab me, but Mom jumped in between us and told him to
get away from me. He grabbed her arm - the same arm that I heard snap when my
father, Andrew, broke in front of me when I was 9. I lost my mind and started
yelling at him even more because nobody touches my mother like that. He was
stunned for a minute, but his flood of anger returned quickly. He hurled Mom
into a door that had a full-length mirror on it. By then, I was on the bed and
yelling at the top of my lungs. That's when he pinned me down on the bed and
pulled my right arm back. Mom jumped up and grabbed him, giving me enough time
to wiggle away and run down the stairs. When Mom and I got to the car, none of our neighbors were
even looking out their windows to see what the noise outside was. Chance had said that if we left him, he would call the
police and tell them that Mom had an ounce of weed on her. I told Mom to give
me the drugs, so if the police were really called I could play it off like it
was mine. She agreed, handed it to me, and I bent it so it would fit nicely
between my hip and the waistband of my sweatpants. We left for one of mom's friend's house, dropped the drugs
off, and left...just like every time before. Mom called Chance four times from a payphone. He wouldn't
leave our house unless we paid him $1,200...last time it was $380. I overheard
Mom offering to drive him home. I jumped out of the passenger seat and
screamed, "You aren't taking him home! There's no way I'll let you be
alone in a car with him for two hours!" Chance had beaten her up in a car
a few times before - he tried to choke her to death, there had been bruises on
her face and throat. I yelled, cried, begged, pleaded, ranted, and prayed.
Finally, I just got out of the car and started walking in the opposite
direction of my house. I didn't know where I was going and I didn't care as
long as it wasn't home. Eventually, Mom pulled up beside me and told me to get in
the car unless I wanted to walk all the way home. I said, "If I get in the
car, we have to go back to that payphone and you have to call the police. You
can show them the bruises on your body. Or we can stand here all night, at
least I'll know you're safe." After a few seconds of silence, she drove off. She left her 14 year old daughter in the middle of
unfamiliar territory at late at night. I sat down on the grass and cried for
what seemed like hours. Then, I went back to the road and waiting, hoping she'd
come back for me. She never did. © 2015 Dead Girl Writing |
StatsAuthorDead Girl WritingAthens, TXAboutJust a simple girl that has hopes and dreams like everyone else on this planet. more..Writing
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