Eighteen Years

by cara.dube

The first three chapters of a story i am writing about a girl and her horrible life. it is about abuse and mistreatment and depression. Meant to make people aware of how serious depression can be, what can cause it, and how it builds up. Based on a true story

Eighteen years

CHAPTER ONE

Meet Matt

It was two o'clock in the morning when my brother burst into my room. He was drunk. I could tell by the way he smelt of a mixture of beer and shots. He started yelling. I was still half asleep, and his words were not too clear, so I could not make out what he was saying. My brother gets drunk a lot, so I'm used to it. "What do you want Matt?" I asked. He just stared at me in the eyes, and then punched me in the face. If I wasn't already awake from his screaming…I was now. I lay in bed in pain. I put my hand to my cheek. I felt the warm bubbly blood spread across my face, I felt the deep cut. I did not cry, I did not whine, I just lay there, letting the blood drip into my eyes as everything went blurry.

I woke up that morning covered in dry blood. I went to the bathroom to wash my face. As I started picking the dry blood from my hands and face, I started thinking. I thought about life. The birds, the trees, the sun. I thought of beautiful things. But mostly I thought back to that day. The worst day of my life. August 13th 1998, the day I was born.

As I emerged into the sunlight for the first time, I thought to myself, this life is going to be a good one. My head suddenly lurched to the side. I looked up to my older brother, just to receive another blow. My dad held him back while the nurses rushed me to emergency to get stitches. That was when I realized, this may not be such an amazing life after all. Okay so maybe I don't really remember all that, but I have heard that story a million times. That is when the beatings started.

As I dried my face with a towel I thought back to all those thousands of times I have been to the emergency, and all those millions of stitches I have gotten. Ever since I can remember, my brother Matt has beat me. If not once then twice a day since the day I was born. Sometimes I wonder if it's something I have done wrong to deserve these beatings. I have never told my parents of course, they wouldn't believe me, they'd think I just wanted attention and my brother would only hit me more. So when they ask where all my bruises come from, I tell them different stories about how clumsy I am, I ran into a door, I fell down the stairs, and many more. My brother came into the bathroom yelling. He pushed me out of the way. I fell into the bathtub. He pulled down his pants to pee, but instead of peeing in the toilet he turned to me, pointed and let it flow. Meet my brother, Matt.

CHAPTER TWO

Ariel

I guess now would be a good time to introduce myself. My name is Ariel Winston. I am nine years old. I have brown hair and blue eyes, and my absolute biggest passion is horses. My Family is not a big one. I have a twelve year old brother, Matt, a mom and a dad. My dad is a jeweler, and my mom is a home mom, she basically stays at home all day, cooks and cleans the house.

Last Tuesday was my ninth birthday. My parents forgot to get me a present, I didn't mind but I felt like they forgot it was my birthday. That made me a little upset I have to admit, although I didn't show it, I felt like crying. Anyways, they went out last minute and bought me a watch. I remember opening the small box with red wrapping paper with gold lining. "Happy Birthday" my parents had said. As I slowly opened the paper, I saw the picture of the purple puma watch on the front, and the price tag, reading "62.99$" My brother was yelling at me to open up the gift faster, and when my parents left the room to get cake, that's when it happened.

Matt had hit me so hard that I fell onto the floor and cracked my brand new watch. He ran into his bedroom and when my parents came back into the room and saw the cracked watch, they lost it. That was the first time in my life, that my parents hit me.

My Dad threw the flaming candles in the cake at me burning me and my mom slapped me in the face, both at the same time. From the sting of slap, the burn of the candles, and the throbbing of the punch, I screamed, I screamed and cried for twenty minutes in my room. It was somewhat out of pain, but mostly frustration and confusion. What had I done to make my family hate me so much? My parents came into the room later that day to apologize for what they had done and wanted to make it up to me. They decided to take me out for dinner, just me and them. No Matt.

For dinner, we went to my favorite restaurant. They have the best ribs in Texas. For dessert, I had a piece of red velvet cheesecake. My favorite. I ate it quickly because we needed to get home to check on Matt. It had turned out to be a pretty good ninth birthday after all.

As I thought back to that day, I couldn't help but feel happy. So I slowly lifted myself out of the bathtub, turned on the shower, and got ready to make the most of a new day.

CHAPTER THREE

The Move

After I got cleaned up, I walked downstairs. My brother glared at me as I passed. I went into the kitchen. My parents were there. My dad with his coffee and my mom with her tea. They both glared at me. I put toast in the toaster and took out the butter. As I waited for the toast to pop, I looked over at my parents, they were still glaring at me. I tried my best to ignore them, but it wasn't easy. I felt their cold beady eyes, looking deep into my soul. I could feel their nosey little minds feasting at every secret I have ever kept. Sometimes I wondered, I wondered if they knew how my brother hit me, how everyday I feared coming home, how sometimes I wished I lived with another family. I just didn't have the guts to ask them if they knew, so, once again, I let the thought get lost in my mind.

When the toast was done, I buttered them carefully and evenly and handed one to each of my parents, and grabbed a cereal bar for myself. As I was leaving the kitchen my dad said "Ariel, wait one second young lady. We did not excuse you" "Yes father?" I replied. "there's something we need to talk to you about" said my mother. My heart stopped. I thought of all the possible things my mom could say right now. All the horrible stories my brother could have told them, all the lies, the secrets, the unforgettable truths. My heart raced. I could feel the blood drain from my face. I found it ard to breath. As I walked towards my parents, I could feel the hard beatings they would give me if they ever found out my secrets. I could feel my mother cold boney hands against my face, my fathers hard fist in my head. My bruises began to hurt. As I sat down, I prepared myself for the harsh beating I was almost certain to receive. I looked my mother in the eyes, then my father. As I took a deep breath, my parents spoke. "Were moving".