It all began that afternoon. A boy who I sometimes hung out with named Allen was again bragging about the fact he had more "BeyBlades" than me. I finally got sick of it when he started to get up in my face and brag. I pushed him away. He ran home, and told his mother I had hit him.

Later that day, when night fell, my sister came home, with her friend, Crystal, who was the sister of the boy Allen, and following them was Crystal and Allen's mother. I was sitting on the couch, watching "Ruroni Kenshin", as usual. Then, Sheryl, the mother, walked right up to me and started to yell at me.

I started to back away, but all three of them followed, Crystal taking the lead. I started to panic a little. I was backed into the hall, which was right next to the end of the couch. My eyes searched around wildly for something - anything - to protect myself with. I found a curtain rod. A pair of curtain rods, in fact.

The trouble was, the hall forked, and I was headed for the side that didn't have the curtain rods. Gathering as much courage as I could, I faked an attack on them, and, while they were still a little startled, I darted down to the other part of the hall, and snatched up one of the curtain rods. I raised it in front of myself.

Meanwhile, they had gathered their wits, and started to charge forth, but when they saw the raised curtain rod, they halted. I knew that they would be still only momentarily, so I darted down the last length of the hall. There were two doors to choose between. One led to the bathroom, the other to my mother's room. I chose my mother's room, for it had a lock.

Into the room I ran, spun, and began to slam the door shut with my free hand, but when it was almost fully closed, the second curtain rod was shoved in between. My eyes widened. I pushed against the door with all my might when I felt it being opened, and was able to hold off all three of them. I knew I wouldn't be able to much longer, so I pressed my luck and reached down to remove the curtain rod from the doorway. I missed.

The door flew open, sending me back, and them forward. I was quickest to pull myself together, and I jumped back. I raised my hand, and found I had lost the curtain rod. They were coming forward, slowly, as if they were toying with me. I was now in between the bed and the wall. I had only to options: be cornered or jump on the bed and gain the advantage. I chose to jump.

I landed, tripped, rolled, half stood. They were now upon me. I lunged forward in desperation, and saw the maddened look on Sheryl's face. The curtain rod in her hands. A flash of sparkling white. A loud smack. Darkness.

Time passed. How much, I do not know, but it passed. And I woke. Felt a horrid pain in my forehead. Reached up, felt. Heat, wetness. I pulled my hand from my forehead, and, opening my eyes, looked at it. It was red. A dark, deep, thick red. It was blood. For a second I was puzzled, but then the memories of what happened flooded back into my head.

Right away, I rolled from the bed and stood, ignoring the fact of the blood. All I knew was that I was in danger. Seeing that no one was in the room, I decided to check the rest of the house. First, the hall. Nothing. Then, the bathroom. Nothing. Next, my bedroom, my sister, Rebecca's, bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, the dining room and the laundry room. All nothing.

I turned to the problem at hand: the bleeding. I went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. What I saw made me sick. Blood covered my face, and my bangs. And the pain. The pain was unbearable. I cried. I screamed. But I washed the blood from my face. And held a cloth against the wound which I found right above my right eye.

At some point in time, I had settled myself down in the hall, and was just sobbing. I heard the front door open. Then saw my sister's face appear around the corner. I looked at her, my face distorted with sorrow and pain. She came up to me, face showing now emotions, and kicked my in the side. I fell, grabbed at her leg. She ran out the door again.

I cried more.

More time had passed, and finally my mother came home. By that time, cops had arrived at the house, and Crystal, Rebecca and Sheryl had already talked to them. Now my mother did, too. I stayed in the house, sobbing.

A few more minutes passed, and mother came in. we spoke briefly. I told her my side of the story. She didn't believe me. I was escorted to a mental facility, and, after proven mentally stable, let out after a week.

Since then, no one has taken my story seriously, and no charges have been filed. And I am left with a scar on my forehead.

~Denise Pitt