"Callie! Where the hell are you! " I heard him scream. I crouched down lower. Allow me to introduce my self, I'm Callie, I'm 6 years old, and I live with my dad and my baby brother, Jude. My mother died three months ago, leaving my dad to his stash of drugs and alcohol. For the past month, my dads been really bad. He abandons us daily, making me watch over Jude, cook and clean. He's also been hitting us. One time, I forgot to cook him dinner so when he got home, he found me hiding in my closet, and punched me in my eye. You would think that the neighbors would hear my sobs and cries for help, but they can't. I live in a small house, in literally the middle of nowhere. On both sides of me there are fields. Across the street, nothing but an old oak tree. We're the only house on this dead road. For some reason, my dad never hit Jude, he must favor him, but one day, this stopped. I was putting our clothes in the washing machine in the basement when I found 4 bags of drugs in my dads coat pocket. I eventually confronted him, asking if he was doing drugs, he looked at me, slapped me, and then started calling for Jude. Jude was up stairs at the time, playing with his toys, I made a grab for my dads ankles but ended up getting kicked in the neck. My dad grabbed my hand and pulled me upstairs. He told me I was going to watch him beat up Jude. He reached for Jude's leg and pulled him close. He slapped Jude's face, punched his nose, and twisted his ankle. Then he put Jude in his crib and walked out the door. Jude and I still share a room for safety purposes. I do go to school, it's a small public school 3 miles away. I would tell my teachers what was going on, but I can't. He would kill me.
You're probably asking what I did now. Well, I tried to run away. "Callie god damn it! Where the hell are you!?" He shouted. I shoved my chin into my knees and curled into a ball. I'm hiding in a small room under the stairs that my dad doesn't know about. In that room I have pictures of me and my mom, a small bowl of candy, and some pillows and blankets. Jude's here too. All of the noise my dad was making started to scare him a little. He started to cry and scream. My dad followed the sound of Jude's cries and found us. He found my pillows. He found my blankets and candy. He even found the pictures of mom. He pulled me out of the hideout, "No daddy please! Please don't hurt me! " I cry. My grabs Jude too. "Dada no! " he screams. He carries us upstairs and ties us to our bedroom door. He goes out into the hall looking for something to hurt us with. He finds an old string and ties it tightly around my calf. My leg was starting to turn white. He looks at Jude and kicks him. He unties us and leads us to our beds. He slammed the door leaving us alone. I examined my leg, which was beginning to tingle with pain. I opened my drawer looking for scissors but all I could find were box cutters. I had to cut my skin in order for the string to be cut. I cried out in pain when I felt the blade pierce my skin. Jude was standing my his bed weeping. I got up and held him. He began to cry harder, leaving snotty tear stains all over my old shirt. "Why did momma have to go?" He asked. I shook my head not knowing what else to do or say. I rocked him back and forth humming into his ear. Years passed, I'm now 14 years old, and Jude's 11.
I never switched schools, I'm going to the same school with the same jackass kids. One day I came home from school to see my dad choking my brother. His face was turning blue, and his arms and legs were pale and shaking. I punched my dad repeatedly, trying to make him stop but he wouldn't. I ran outside, found a baseball bat and swung it at him. He called the cops, they sent me to juvy, and it's all because my dad lied and said I went crazy and tried to kill him.