Prologue
“Please stop; you're hurting me,” I cried out in pain to my abuser.
“You will shut the fuck up and take what I give you, and you will not breathe a word of this to anyone, do you understand me? Not to your friends or your teachers.”
I kept moving around, hoping he’d let me go, but to no avail, this man pinned me down with his strong body. My back is to his front as I cry. I was only twelve years old, being raped by someone who I thought loved me. His breath smelled like cigarettes and of liquor, making my stomach hurt, ready to throw up the dinner my mommy had made for us. I know I'm only twelve years old, but I know enough to know this isn't supposed to happen.
“P-please. Please don't hurt me anymore— please, It hurts.” I begged and cried some more.
"Shut the fuck up and take what I give you."
I pleaded with the monster that was on top of me, breathing heavily into my ear as this man who I thought could have protected me had his way with me. I felt scared. Would I ever be happy in life? Or would I die at the hands I call parents? My backside kept hurting as he kept pressing into me roughly while his hands gripped my short hair. I stayed still, letting him do whatever he wanted because it was inevitable. He was too strong for me, and I couldn't handle him. I waited until he was finished.
Once he left my bed, he made sure I wouldn't speak about this to anyone telling me that if I talked about this, I would find my friends dead underneath the boardwalk of our beach. I was only twelve years old, and even though this had been happening for a while, I knew not to tell anyone— I did not want my friends to get in trouble. I decided to get up from the bed and walk into my bathroom to take a shower to forget about what had just happened. I may be young, but I know what that man did to me wasn't supposed to happen. Washing inside the shower, blood spills onto the tub floor. More tears spilled from my eyes as I tried to clean my body. I wish I had a family that loved me— all mommy and daddy seem to do is hurt me.
After taking a shower, I walked into my bedroom with pajamas entirely on when I spotted my mom sitting at the edge of my bed smoking her cigarettes. I limped my way to my bed and lay on my stomach because I could not lay on my back. My mom looked upset at me, and I was sad I made her upset. I hate when she's mad because then I get punished.
"What's wrong, mommy?" I asked as tears ran thoroughly down on my face.
"I want you to toughen up, Draven. You are supposed to be the head of the household soon, and you can't even handle a little touch. You start to cry like the little bitch that you are every time your father touches you." My mommy spoke angrily, and I knew she meant every single word she said.
"What daddy is doing is wrong. He's not supposed to hurt me like that. I wish I had a better family—" My mom grabbed the back of my throat and choked me. "Pl- please, mommy. Please stop this."
My mom was somewhat fragile, her hair was stuck together, and mommy looked sick, but she somehow overpowered me— it must be drugs. My mom began to punch me in the back, telling me I was a little shit and that I wasn't loved— I felt so alone.
She started to yank my shirt off of me, and when she succeeded, she held my small frame down and burned my back with the butt of her cigarette. I screamed out in pain as I heard daddy from the other room laughing, yelling how he enjoyed this.
"This is your punishment for being an unwanted child. You were never supposed to be here; in fact, we hate you, Draven. We'd wish you just died so we wouldn't have to deal with you anymore," my mom yelled.
I felt the burns seeping through my skin. Even though I am used to this type of treatment, I began feeling unwanted and unloved. Like I was such a burden. I didn't want to live this life anymore; my father has been hurting me like this since my sixth birthday. I remember coming home expecting to see gifts, balloons, cake, decorations, and my daddy and mommy in the living room waiting for me with a big smile on their faces. Instead, mommy and daddy were nowhere to be found, and I was left alone in my house until the middle of the night where my dad came home and went straight to my bedroom where he hit me so much and hurt me from behind that I passed out bleeding. My mom never did anything; she only laughed at me, saying that I was pathetic. I wonder what really happened for them to just flip like this on me. I wonder what made them go from the loving parents they were to the monsters they've become. Or were they always like this? I was tired of being abused, being raped, letting my mom burn me… I was tired of it. I put clothes into a book bag.
I waited until all the lights in my house were off and mom and dad were sleeping so I could leave. I tiptoed around my father's study, looked around, then found my father's gun in his drawer that was next to his desk— I memorized every detail. I picked up the gun and headed to my parent's bedroom. I wanted to shoot them, let them die for what they were doing to me, but I just couldn't. I'm not a bad guy like them, so I walked back into his study quietly and placed the gun back in the drawer, and walked out of the house through the back door heading to my best friend Derrick's home.
***************
"Draven, what are you doing here? Are you okay?" My best friend, Derrick, was concerned for my well-being. His parents have been fearful for me for some time, but I never spoke about what happened to me every night. I would go over there at night with fresh bruises on my body, and Derrick's older sister Autumn would cover the black and blues on my face with some female product. Autumn said the female product would cover my injuries so no teacher would suspect something. Her words, not mine.
"Draven, please, we need to tell someone. This doesn't seem right; you sneak into our home at night, and although we don't mind, it's just not right. Please, our parents are—" Autumn pleaded, but I stopped her before she could continue.
"I know you want to help, but there is nothing you can do. My mom and dad are the ones who take care of me, and I have a roof over my head. I should be grateful for that," I whispered as my throat felt like it was thick, tears once again ready to be spilled out.
"Yeah, but that doesn't give them the right to abuse you as they do, Dravey— it's not right."
"I know, Autumn, but right now, what can I do? I just need your family's support. If it's too much, I will leave, I will not—" before I could finish my sentence, one woman who I always admired entered the room and spoke with a lot of care.
"You will stay under this roof, Draven. Have I made myself clear?" Michelle Roberts spoke.
I brought my head down so as not to undermine her. She spoke with confidence and love for everyone: Michelle and her husband, Damon Roberts, were the epitome of family and love, and I envied that.
"Yes, ma'am," I spoke softly.
"I will talk to your mother and let her know you are staying with us so she wouldn't worry."
My nerves got the better of me; I screamed, "NO."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Roberts, but I'd rather not have you talk to my mother. She's never home," I said.
"Draven, I love you, but at the end of the day, you are still a minor. So I would need to speak to your parents. Look, I know something is going on at home. I'm not stupid, nor do I like seeing you in bruises and burn marks. Why don't you kids go to bed, and in the morning, we will handle things? Is that alright?"
"Sure," I spoke softly.
*************
I wake up with the covers being removed from me slightly, and for a second, I instantly panic, and I start to have a panic attack. Yelling, don't touch me when I looked up it was Mrs. Roberts. With tears in her eyes, I calmed down while she scooted on the bed, holding me in her arms, telling me it would be alright.
"I'm sorry," I cried.
"Shh, it's okay, baby, you're safe here," Mrs. Roberts grabbed my face between her hands and said, "what did they do to you?"
I didn't want to confess anything, but I knew that if I wanted help, I needed to be completely honest and tell her everything from the beginning about what they did to me. And so I did, which led Mr. and Mrs. Roberts to call mom and dad.
"Hello," my mom slurred on the phone— she was on speakerphone.
"Hey Elena, this is Michelle. Do you have a moment to talk?"
"Um, sure." My mom seemed awkward over the phone.
"Have you seen Draven?"
"N-no," mom stuttered.
"Do you know where he might have gone?" Michelle asked.
"What's it to you? It's none of your damn business where he's gone."
"Well, if you cared to know about your child, you would have known that every night he sneaks into our house with bruises all over his body, crying and begging us to let him stay here." Mrs. Roberts was upset as she spoke into the phone.
My mom laughed like she really didn't care, "we don't care, Michelle. He's nothing but worthless to us; we never loved him."
"Well, being that My husband and I are lawyers, you will never have to worry about Draven ever again. His home is right with us, he's loved and welcomed, and he never has to worry about you guys anymore. Trust me, Draven may carry your last name, but he's so much better than the both of you. You want to tell me he's worthless? No, worthless are the two of you who can't even go a day without getting drunk and high. Mark my words Draven will make something of himself and become better than you both have ever been— he's free from you." Mrs. Roberts hung the phone up on my mom and consoled me for the rest of the morning.
"You will always have a home here, Draven."
"Th— thank you."
"Of course, now let's take a good look at your back and assess these burns. I will make them pay for everything they've ever done."
And make them pay she did.
“You will shut the fuck up and take what I give you, and you will not breathe a word of this to anyone, do you understand me? Not to your friends or your teachers.”
I kept moving around, hoping he’d let me go, but to no avail, this man pinned me down with his strong body. My back is to his front as I cry. I was only twelve years old, being raped by someone who I thought loved me. His breath smelled like cigarettes and of liquor, making my stomach hurt, ready to throw up the dinner my mommy had made for us. I know I'm only twelve years old, but I know enough to know this isn't supposed to happen.
“P-please. Please don't hurt me anymore— please, It hurts.” I begged and cried some more.
"Shut the fuck up and take what I give you."
I pleaded with the monster that was on top of me, breathing heavily into my ear as this man who I thought could have protected me had his way with me. I felt scared. Would I ever be happy in life? Or would I die at the hands I call parents? My backside kept hurting as he kept pressing into me roughly while his hands gripped my short hair. I stayed still, letting him do whatever he wanted because it was inevitable. He was too strong for me, and I couldn't handle him. I waited until he was finished.
Once he left my bed, he made sure I wouldn't speak about this to anyone telling me that if I talked about this, I would find my friends dead underneath the boardwalk of our beach. I was only twelve years old, and even though this had been happening for a while, I knew not to tell anyone— I did not want my friends to get in trouble. I decided to get up from the bed and walk into my bathroom to take a shower to forget about what had just happened. I may be young, but I know what that man did to me wasn't supposed to happen. Washing inside the shower, blood spills onto the tub floor. More tears spilled from my eyes as I tried to clean my body. I wish I had a family that loved me— all mommy and daddy seem to do is hurt me.
After taking a shower, I walked into my bedroom with pajamas entirely on when I spotted my mom sitting at the edge of my bed smoking her cigarettes. I limped my way to my bed and lay on my stomach because I could not lay on my back. My mom looked upset at me, and I was sad I made her upset. I hate when she's mad because then I get punished.
"What's wrong, mommy?" I asked as tears ran thoroughly down on my face.
"I want you to toughen up, Draven. You are supposed to be the head of the household soon, and you can't even handle a little touch. You start to cry like the little bitch that you are every time your father touches you." My mommy spoke angrily, and I knew she meant every single word she said.
"What daddy is doing is wrong. He's not supposed to hurt me like that. I wish I had a better family—" My mom grabbed the back of my throat and choked me. "Pl- please, mommy. Please stop this."
My mom was somewhat fragile, her hair was stuck together, and mommy looked sick, but she somehow overpowered me— it must be drugs. My mom began to punch me in the back, telling me I was a little shit and that I wasn't loved— I felt so alone.
She started to yank my shirt off of me, and when she succeeded, she held my small frame down and burned my back with the butt of her cigarette. I screamed out in pain as I heard daddy from the other room laughing, yelling how he enjoyed this.
"This is your punishment for being an unwanted child. You were never supposed to be here; in fact, we hate you, Draven. We'd wish you just died so we wouldn't have to deal with you anymore," my mom yelled.
I felt the burns seeping through my skin. Even though I am used to this type of treatment, I began feeling unwanted and unloved. Like I was such a burden. I didn't want to live this life anymore; my father has been hurting me like this since my sixth birthday. I remember coming home expecting to see gifts, balloons, cake, decorations, and my daddy and mommy in the living room waiting for me with a big smile on their faces. Instead, mommy and daddy were nowhere to be found, and I was left alone in my house until the middle of the night where my dad came home and went straight to my bedroom where he hit me so much and hurt me from behind that I passed out bleeding. My mom never did anything; she only laughed at me, saying that I was pathetic. I wonder what really happened for them to just flip like this on me. I wonder what made them go from the loving parents they were to the monsters they've become. Or were they always like this? I was tired of being abused, being raped, letting my mom burn me… I was tired of it. I put clothes into a book bag.
I waited until all the lights in my house were off and mom and dad were sleeping so I could leave. I tiptoed around my father's study, looked around, then found my father's gun in his drawer that was next to his desk— I memorized every detail. I picked up the gun and headed to my parent's bedroom. I wanted to shoot them, let them die for what they were doing to me, but I just couldn't. I'm not a bad guy like them, so I walked back into his study quietly and placed the gun back in the drawer, and walked out of the house through the back door heading to my best friend Derrick's home.
***************
"Draven, what are you doing here? Are you okay?" My best friend, Derrick, was concerned for my well-being. His parents have been fearful for me for some time, but I never spoke about what happened to me every night. I would go over there at night with fresh bruises on my body, and Derrick's older sister Autumn would cover the black and blues on my face with some female product. Autumn said the female product would cover my injuries so no teacher would suspect something. Her words, not mine.
"Draven, please, we need to tell someone. This doesn't seem right; you sneak into our home at night, and although we don't mind, it's just not right. Please, our parents are—" Autumn pleaded, but I stopped her before she could continue.
"I know you want to help, but there is nothing you can do. My mom and dad are the ones who take care of me, and I have a roof over my head. I should be grateful for that," I whispered as my throat felt like it was thick, tears once again ready to be spilled out.
"Yeah, but that doesn't give them the right to abuse you as they do, Dravey— it's not right."
"I know, Autumn, but right now, what can I do? I just need your family's support. If it's too much, I will leave, I will not—" before I could finish my sentence, one woman who I always admired entered the room and spoke with a lot of care.
"You will stay under this roof, Draven. Have I made myself clear?" Michelle Roberts spoke.
I brought my head down so as not to undermine her. She spoke with confidence and love for everyone: Michelle and her husband, Damon Roberts, were the epitome of family and love, and I envied that.
"Yes, ma'am," I spoke softly.
"I will talk to your mother and let her know you are staying with us so she wouldn't worry."
My nerves got the better of me; I screamed, "NO."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Roberts, but I'd rather not have you talk to my mother. She's never home," I said.
"Draven, I love you, but at the end of the day, you are still a minor. So I would need to speak to your parents. Look, I know something is going on at home. I'm not stupid, nor do I like seeing you in bruises and burn marks. Why don't you kids go to bed, and in the morning, we will handle things? Is that alright?"
"Sure," I spoke softly.
*************
I wake up with the covers being removed from me slightly, and for a second, I instantly panic, and I start to have a panic attack. Yelling, don't touch me when I looked up it was Mrs. Roberts. With tears in her eyes, I calmed down while she scooted on the bed, holding me in her arms, telling me it would be alright.
"I'm sorry," I cried.
"Shh, it's okay, baby, you're safe here," Mrs. Roberts grabbed my face between her hands and said, "what did they do to you?"
I didn't want to confess anything, but I knew that if I wanted help, I needed to be completely honest and tell her everything from the beginning about what they did to me. And so I did, which led Mr. and Mrs. Roberts to call mom and dad.
"Hello," my mom slurred on the phone— she was on speakerphone.
"Hey Elena, this is Michelle. Do you have a moment to talk?"
"Um, sure." My mom seemed awkward over the phone.
"Have you seen Draven?"
"N-no," mom stuttered.
"Do you know where he might have gone?" Michelle asked.
"What's it to you? It's none of your damn business where he's gone."
"Well, if you cared to know about your child, you would have known that every night he sneaks into our house with bruises all over his body, crying and begging us to let him stay here." Mrs. Roberts was upset as she spoke into the phone.
My mom laughed like she really didn't care, "we don't care, Michelle. He's nothing but worthless to us; we never loved him."
"Well, being that My husband and I are lawyers, you will never have to worry about Draven ever again. His home is right with us, he's loved and welcomed, and he never has to worry about you guys anymore. Trust me, Draven may carry your last name, but he's so much better than the both of you. You want to tell me he's worthless? No, worthless are the two of you who can't even go a day without getting drunk and high. Mark my words Draven will make something of himself and become better than you both have ever been— he's free from you." Mrs. Roberts hung the phone up on my mom and consoled me for the rest of the morning.
"You will always have a home here, Draven."
"Th— thank you."
"Of course, now let's take a good look at your back and assess these burns. I will make them pay for everything they've ever done."
And make them pay she did.
