Pain and suffering is all I've ever known. No sense of happiness or joy. Sixteen years of my life, taken, and abused.

Abuse is all I've ever seen; physical, emotional, mental. Sometimes it brings about the difference between life and death but I somehow always manage to stay alive.

I await the day where I will be strong enough to take my own life, instead of waiting for someone to take it from me.

Friends, what friends? I walk around school with my head to the ground, listening to the sounds of my feet scuffing the floor. Nobody spares a passing glance. Not one person; just the way I like it

My parents, only god knows why, scream and yell, abusing my self-esteem. Only my father abuses the silky skin of my delicate self. Bruises upon bruises, cut upon cut. He makes me wear a full body suit of scars.

There is a tiny piece of the body suit I made for my self. Using only a razor, I take the blade and make bright red ribbons from the skin on my wrist. I feel the numbness and watch the ruby stream well in front of my eyes. The only sense of peace I have. Only when the time is right, do I finally turn on the faucet, and watch the stream go away.

I await the day my father does the ultimate low. When he takes the one piece of my childhood I still have, leaving me vulnerable and exposed in my room. Using his lower half instead of his upper, he seeks sexual pleasure from me. My screams will flood his ear canal, a smirk forming on his ill shaven face. Of course, no one, not even my mother, will come save me.

Why would they? They don't know me. Why should they? I'm none of their concern. I'm just damaged goods; used and no good.

One day, I'll be left to die. It will be a long, painful death. I'll take my last breath, contaminated with the blood that I'm laying in, and my heart will give out. Finally FREE.