She's standing on the line between giving up and how much more she can take.– Unknown

[3]

over my mind as I sit here on a rock. The sound of waves, trees and my own breathing surround me. Just me, alone.

I watch as a group of children run around with little to no care in the world, nothing could touch them. My childhood was anything but what they are experiencing right now. No, I had to learn how to survive.

To trust no one else, just me.

My fingers trace around a bruise on my knee. Slowly, they move up to my thigh. The higher they get, the more bruises there are.

I had to learn to obey and not question. My curiousness as a kid never blossomed. I had to just accept things and not become curious about them.

Ten years and no one knows. Just them and me.

Every day, a fresh bruise sprouts on my body. They never really did seem to put a thought in the fact they just slapped a nine-year-old across the face. It came naturally to everyone but David at first.

The first time David hit me was by accident. The shock that washed over him was extremely evident, yet, after that one time, it happened repeatedly. Until, finally, it was nothing but a mere thought that crossed his mind too.

I was nothing and will always be nothing.

Too trapped in my thoughts, I don't notice a little girl poking my leg.

"Excuse me..." The little girl peers up at me. A smile crosses my mouth; it doesn't quite reach my eyes though.

"Yes?" My voice comes out scratchy like I haven't talked in a long time.

"Why are you sad? I just saw you here all alone and thought you would like some friends or something..." The little girl says, fidgeting under my emotionless gaze. She looks to be around the age of seven.

"Uh - I'm all good. I just think a lot, that's all," I say although my voice sounds timid.

"I'm Millie by the way." She offers her hand to which I shake reluctantly. She is just a little girl.

I was just a little girl.

"Isabelle."

Millie gasps. "Oh, that's so pretty! You look the same age as my brother do you know --"

"Millie!" I hear a deep voice shout. "Get your ass back here now! If you wander away again, I'm telling mum."

Millie groans. "Shut up, Adam. I made a new friend."

My head shoots up at the name, and there it is - the constant thumping against my chest as I stare into those stormy grey eyes.

He seems just as shocked as I am considering his mouth is parted open. I fidget slightly before Adam comes back to reality and starts walking towards us.

I hug my legs closer to my body, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Millie crosses her arms over her chest.

"Adam, do not use me as a way to get girls again. If you even talk to my new friend about how you always have 'pillow fights' at home with all those girls, I will tell mum."

Maybe she isn't as innocent as I first thought. Adam using his sister to get girls? Why does that not surprise me?

"Plus, Isabelle and I were getting along fine before you came along."

"Isabelle..." Adam whispers to himself.

Millie stomps her foot before punching his leg. Adam doesn't seem to be fazed at all, besides the fact that he's looking at me, a frown present on his face. I quickly look away and glance at Millie.

"Its fine Millie, anyway, I really have to go."

I quickly slip off the rock and start to walk away. Before I get too far someone grabs my upper arm. A pain trails itself up my shoulder. I wince before quickly yanking it back. Adam looks at me in confusion. I try shrugging the look out of my mind and wave goodbye.

Millie waves back excitedly while Adam stares. I shiver with how intense the look is. One slip up is not going to reveal my secret, right?

-

Glass shatters everywhere.

"You fucking bitch, this is your entire fault!" Gary screams. My hands shield my face as I sink further into the corner. Gary slaps, punches and kicks me until he cannot go anymore.

My broken body, bruised, once again. I sob, but no tears fall.

"I failed the fucking interview because of you!" Gary hisses. "Our whole life keeps getting ruined because of you."

I prepare myself for the pain of his words to hit, but they never do. I don't feel it. Suddenly, he is pulling me off the ground. Gary has his hands wrapped tightly around my neck.

I struggle to breathe as my airway is blocked. I can't feel it though as I'm already too numb. It's always a waiting game for him to let go. Maybe Gary won't this time...

He does though. My body falls limply to the ground.

My breathing comes back short and weak. I take a quick glance up to see Gary still seething.

"I'm..." I gasp for air, "sorry!"

We both hear the loud clicks from heels down the hall. They get closer and then I hear a gasp.

"Gary, my vase!" Kelly squeals.

"Kelly dear, it wasn't me, I swear," the lie slipping easily through his mouth. "That fucking brat did it," his finger points at me.

We all know it's a lie. All three of us know it is and there is no denying it.

"I see she's already been punished," Kelly states. With that, she turns and leaves the room. I am then lifted harshly back onto my feet.

"Clean this mess, now," Gary hisses before walking out the room.

Why do I keep fucking up? Am I that bad? I don't ever intentionally mean to screw his interviews up. I told him last week, the night before his meeting, to go to bed, right?

I really try, I do. I always fuck it up though.

Limping over to the broken glass, I pick up the pieces. My head pounds and my body feels like it's going to give way at any moment.

Finally, I finish picking up the glass pieces and walk to the bathroom to clean myself up.

I stare at myself in the mirror. A deep gash from the glass is on the side of my head with blood dripping out of it. It needs medical treatment, but I don't have that. A big bruise seems to be darkening on my right cheek as well. I don't even want to look at the rest of my body.

I gently start washing the cuts, the water now a watery red. My hands are the same colour except dirtier.

"What have I done to deserve this?" I whisper to myself.

Perhaps someone is listening. I just want - no, need an answer. No matter how hard I pray to god that maybe - just maybe, I will get that answer. I won't ever get it though.

Maybe, one day a hero will come and save me? An angel. My own angel sent from the heavens above to rescue me.

I have waited so long, too long. Maybe there is no god. Perhaps I am just talking to my own demons. Yes, that's it. My demons.

I finish cleaning and tending to my wounds before putting the first aid box away. I yawn and check the time: one in the morning. I drag my tired feet to my room and flop onto my bed.

"Please god - my demons," I correct myself. "Save me, take me somewhere else. Anywhere away from here. Send me an angel, please..." My cries for help seem silent like no one is listening.

Maybe no one is. I shake the thought. I am just losing my faith.

"My angel..." I whisper, "I beg you."