*Note: Another writing exercise! If anyone want’s to try then please feel free to comment with your story for the picture.*
I sat down wishing the pain would go away. It wasn’t the first time that he’s hit me like that. They were usually directed towards my belly which wouldn’t show any bruises. I just wish my mother was here to see it. She never is. He makes her believe I say he hits me because I hate him for not being my real father.
My nose is starting to run from the tears that I’ve been trying to fight back for few minutes now. I don’t know why he doesn’t love me anymore. He used to, before he married my mother.
I’ll stay out here for a while and hope he falls asleep on the couch again. Maybe I’ll be able to sneak back in and lock the door to my room. Mommy will be home in an hour; I hate how she can only find the third shift jobs.
I can feel people staring at me briefly as they go on their way to work. I wish they could help. I wish I could tell them to help me. I don’t have any bruises though. I only have my words and tears.
Another ten or so minutes I’ll sneak back in. It’s so chilly out, I hate how much I shiver. My mother’s hot chocolate would be so good right now. I hope she makes me some when she gets home. I’m going to miss it so much. I’ll miss her too. I know she’ll cry when she finds me gone tomorrow. It hurts my heart to think about.