A story about a young girl and how her mother turned to drugs and abuse because of a family death; written in a diary format.
The counsellor yesterday told me that my mother had escaped, but she also told me there was hope, but I shan’t believe her, I can’t believe her. This is the end for me, I won’t keep going on like this, a life without love isn’t a life at all…it’s just not right. I saw my chance today, my chance of freedom, so I took it and ran. I climbed out that window and ran as fast as I could, as fast as my bed ridden legs would take me. And I made it. Now I’m sitting in an alleyway and I hear sirens and someone coming down the alley, I’ll write more later,
Love Elizabeth.
Wednesday, 19th of November
Dear Diary,
That alleyway was the best thing that ever happened to me, I am finally free to go, free to do as I wish. I remember what happened like it happened a second ago, the bin bags and the skirt, that little black skirt walking away was the last thing I saw. After I finished writing, I saw HER. How she found me there I don’t know, but what I did know was what she was after. ME. So I let her take me, let her take my life…At least she will pay, pay for the horrid things she did. She grabbed a considerably large, pointy rock from the ground as I though this and I just sat there, sat there as she cut me, cut me deep. I asked her, “Why?” Her reply was not to break the silence with words, but to cry, cry with tears, not tears of love, but tears of hate. Her eyes were filled with hate, and as I lay there dying I could not feel that pain, I would not feel that pain that she tried to inflict, for I could not feel anything, not love, not hate, not denial, not happiness…for I was emotionless. So now I’m not here anymore and this would be my last entry. I write this with my blood, with my sick, little, broken heart, and most of all, my last breaths.
Love Elizabeth.
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