It’s that time again. I walk into my apartment, leaving the door open behind me. I take a look around. Mom’s not home as usual. What else was I expecting? It’s the same routine as always. I toss my backpack against the wall next to the couch. Suddenly the door slams behind me. Under any other circumstances, normally I’d turn around in shock, but this was an entirely different case and by now, I’ve grown used to it. It is that time again, after all.

I stand still. His footsteps grow louder. My heart pounds against my chest. Sweat begins to drip down the side of my face as I see his shadow on the wall in front of me engulf my own. He rests his hands on my shoulders and laughs. I make sure not to tense up, because I know that it’ll make him angry. I know what’s going to happen next. Everything’s the same as always… He begins to lead me outside. On our way out the door, I shut my eyes and think, Maybe this time, he’ll finally kill me…

…

It’s so cold. Everything is dark. My ribs hurt. I can’t breathe. I lie on the cold floor of the storage room, gasping for breath. It hurts… I hurt… but I can’t cry… I can’t… He kicks me and sends me rolling until I hit the wall behind me. I feel something come up my throat. I cough. As I lie on the floor, I can barely see his vague outline. He raises the bat above his head. He’s being extra cruel today. I shut my eyes and await the impact. He lowers the bat onto me. I feel the cold metal strike me on the side. I hold back the urge to scream while blinking back my tears. Don’t cry… Don’t!!! If I do… he’ll kill her…

I stare blankly at the extending blackness surrounding the two of us. My world right now is made of blood. At this moment, blood is all that my world knows; all that I know. It’s everywhere. I’m covered in it. He’s covered in it. It runs through everyone’s veins; through his, through Mom’s, through mine… only mine is constantly being spilled now, painting everything I know red… mixed in with the inky blackness that surrounds us. There’s blood all over the floor. It’s in my hair, on my arms, my chest… in the air… I can even taste it.

Not thinking in this situation is just as bad—sometimes even worse—as thinking. I try to lose myself in my thoughts. This was always my main coping method to get through these beatings. I try to get lost in thought so that perhaps when I come to, it’ll all be over… So I think… I think about the possibilities of what would happen if Melissa… Ms. Moore… or anyone ever found out this. Instantly, several scenarios begin to play through my head at once leaving behind questions; thus muddling my mind even further. Would he kill Mom and I before the police arrived? Would I end up like Sylvia and just end everything myself? Do Mom and I have a chance to get away anymore? Is it even possible to escape and live happily ever after? Is there even a way to escape? What is “happy…?” Does happiness even exist…?

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear the bat hit the floor. The sound echoes through the storage room, and rings in my ears. I make my best efforts not to move while trying to anticipate what he’ll do next. Only black fills my vision. I can’t trace his outline at this point. I hear him kneel down in front of me and then… nothing. I wait, and listen. Still, I hear nothing or rather…I can’t hear anything over the sound of my own breathing. I don’t know how long I lied there listening to nothing but Silence’s Rhapsody buzzing in my ears for what seems like forever. Still, nothing happens. Did he leave without my noticing…? My eyes search through the inky blackness. I freeze when I feel his hand touch my arm. I hold my breath. I’m terrified. His hand elevates my head. He laughs his satanic laugh. I don’t move.

Suddenly, I feel a piecing pain in my left eye. I almost cry out, but I clasp my hand over my mouth. I feel a warm liquid trickle down the side of my face—I assume that it’s blood. I remain motionless. It might worsen things. Something is in my eye. It hurts… It burns. All of a sudden he gets up and the back of my head hits the floor. I writhe on the floor as I cover my wounded eye with my hands. Through my good eye, I watch him open the door and exit, not closing the door completely behind him. A small stream of light pierces the darkness and hits the floor. As I lie glaring at the doorway, I notice something lying in that small light spot. For a while, I’m in too much pain to care. Eventually, after moments several of lying still, curiosity gets the best of me and I use my right arm to drag myself across the floor, towards it. A few drops of blood are on the floor surrounding it. I examine the object closely. It’s hard to focus even with my good eye. It’s silver, small and thin. It only takes me less than a second to realize what it is. I grit my teeth, “So that’s what it was— ” Immediately, I pick it up off the floor and throw the item as far away from me as I could. I can feel my eye throbbing. I bring both of my hands to my face and curl into a ball. Finally, I let the tears flow.

The b****** stabbed my eye with a needle…