Hiding to Survive

There are so many issues in our world that are overlooked. If it appears on the news, then people will care for a period of time. But if it doesn’t, people will simply not bring up the issue of child abuse unless their life’s work is helping those who have been hurt and abused. This is always current. This, sadly, will always happen.

Hiding to Survive

 

My closet, made of the most brittle of materials, is what keeps me safe from my family. My mom and dad, my supposed protectors from the wretched and vile people of this world, hurt me so that mass murderers seem like angels before my eyes.

I hide to survive. Hide to protect myself from the rape and the beatings. Hide from my greatest moments of fear in my life. Hide so that one day I can escape and never look back. Never look back on the physical pain and the mental suffering.

They are looking for me all around the house, looking for any trace of where I could possibly be hiding. They know where I am though.

They play this sadistic game to feel pleasure, to become high of their only son, their only child, wither in pain.

My door is barricaded with clothes and shoes and books and baskets and everything else I could use to help keep them out. In my hand I hold a toy bone, nothing to stop them but anything to help protect me.

I hear them. Hide and survive. Pray and hope. Don’t and I could die.

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