Child Abuse Story From Freedom Writer

by Name Undisclosed
(Texas, USA)

Aw, man. I feel like I'm going to throw up here-in this apartment as I write this. "It's been a hard life," I told my teacher one day, once he started questioning the scars on my arms and neck, plus the way I curl my fist into the rubber band I usually tie around my wrist. I don't want to flat out say how I've been abused, since I know that I can say it a better way, like I usually do when I write things, but this a Child Abuse Story From me. So I can just plainly say it.

I've been neglected, cut, slapped, emotionally abused, and threatened I don't know how many times. I asked my teacher, "Is Recovery better than Forgiveness? Because I personally think that Defense is greater than those. You don't know when somebody is going to do the same thing to you. Defense is what I have."
Let me just say one thing. I read Child Abuse Story From Red, and then watched the movie, Pay It Forward. Eugene Simonet, a teacher in the movie, was burned, also. That reminded me of Red's story, and I just want to say: one, his is similar to hers, and two, I'm sorry. That must've really hurt. And I bet it affected you emotionally.

One thing I can never forget is my dogs, Carlie and Everest. Carlie was a chocolate Labrador Retriever and Everest was a German Shepherd. They both protected me. Later on, Carlie was run over (my grandmother and me were in a truck and hit a bump in the road) and it really affected me.

I have a physically and emotionally abusive stepfather, which falls onto my mother. One night, my stepfather was outside at a park with me, and we were all alone. Guess what? It's a common thing how it starts because it always starts with a fight, an argument. I called him a fag by accident. My friends said that word all the time and it accidentally slipped out of my mouth. Next thing I know, I'm on the ground with all of these bleeding cuts across my arms. He dragged me all the way to the end of the woods. I screamed in pain when the bleeding cuts stretched out.

He yelled at me to run away. To run away and never see him again. I was a "terrible child", he had said, and I "didn't deserve to be with a family". Everest was running after us. I was afraid what was going to happen. So, to obey him, I just tripped over my shoes and ran all the way without stopping. I could remember just running for my life, trying to not look back so I could see him, and eventually I ran out of breath after 5 minutes from darting down a steep hill. I stopped. Then...I heard this...gun shot. It was a shrieking pitching sound. I slapped my hands over my ears. Then I remembered: I forgot Everest.

I shook off my tiredness and climbed up the hill. Once I reached the woods again, I saw the most horrifying image I could ever see: Everest was on the ground...a bullet in the stomach. I cried and cried and cried.

After two days of sleeping next to my dead dog in the woods and drinking water from the water fountain in the park, I returned back home to see that my stepfather had moved away. I was still not happy. Everest had died!

Everest helped me live this hard life. And I'll never forget him.

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