This is a place for me to write my own stories, comment if you want or send me a message.

RUN-
“Run,” I told her, “as fast and far as you can, don’t look back, just run Shayna, run home I will catch up with you I promise,” I added seeing the fear and questions in her eyes. She trusted me to keep her safe and I knew in my heart I was lying to her, I wouldn’t be right behind her but I would make sure my family stayed safe from the bastard they called my father. “When you get far enough away call the police, Shayna but don’t stop, go now” I commanded her, pushing her in the direction of our house watching her get away I could feel a bit of relief until I turned to face him. I had seen the knife glinting in the light of the street lamps surrounding me, no I wouldn’t survive this encounter but either would he. I stood my ground though every impulse was to run away hide and pray he would go away, with every step he took toward me made me cringe in fear, a silent prayer fell from my lips, “Lord protect my family, and friends from this monster, give me the strength until my last dying breath to face him and see him leave this earth, please protect my family Lord it’s my last request.” I looked up the road where I had last seen him, he was closer than I had expected, I could see the triumph in his eyes, the coldness of his smile, and that evil glint of the knife’s blade. I was scared out of my mind, everything told me to run and get away as fast possible the same way I had told my cousin to but I stood my ground determined he would not see me run ever again. “Well look who I have come across here tonight,” he said grinning like a cat that had cornered a mouse, “my beautiful daughter, who seems to have been waiting for me.” Inside I was shaking like a gift on Christmas morning but on the outside I stood tall. “Look who finally decided to stop playing in the shadows,” I responded, “it took you long enough to stop playing games, I knew who it was from the start.” “Did you now,” he asked with a smile, “you weren’t afraid at all?” “Not once you sick asshole,” I answered back. “Shayna seems to have gotten prettier over the years, she may even surpass you,” he said changing the subject, “maybe she will be last on my list, after all those who have protected you all this time have to die as well for keeping you from me,” he added. “You won’t get near her,” I said through my teeth, “you won’t survive tonight, no one will fall prey to you again.” “Well, well would you look at that my daughter has finally found her backbone, to bad it’s to late to stand up to me now,” he stated coming closer to me raising his hand holding the knife. Looking at me as he closed in, he twisted to knife around in his hand, “Do you remember this knife,” he asked showing it to me. “It’s the butcher knife I cut my finger open with,” I respond fear clearly written on my face, I was truly scared out of my wits as he drew closer. “How did you find me here,” I ask him trying to keep him talking the more he talked the less he would think about using that knife. “Oh it was so very easy, Kayla you weren’t that hard to keep track of,” he says with a smile. Now he was right in front of me, toying with the knife, twisting it around and around in his hand. I knew I needed to get of the offensive, to take that knife and plunge it deep into his chest before he wounded me fatally; I had to protect my family and friends. “So you have found me here in South Carolina, what are you going to do now, make me go with you,” I ask unsure of his answer. “No, I am sorry my dear you will die tonight, you were disloyal to me so you must pay the price,” he answers calmly. Panic must be written clearly on my face from the way he smiles, with no warning he lunges for me. I saw him coming by mere seconds; the knife struck my arm cutting from my elbow to wrist. My blood dripping down, and tears filling my eyes from the pain, I cradle my hurt arm against my chest watching him in fear. He is coming at me again the same way no warning, but this time I was ready. As he raises the knife I kick out my left foot connecting with his stomach as he connects with the knife into my shoulder, he stumbles my kick wasn’t hard but it threw him off. Now I am completely blinded by pain from my left side, praying to God that I can survive this night but he will not. While he is circling me I mirror his movements trying hard not to give him another opening. “You’re losing a lot of blood,” he says plainly, “why don’t you just give in and end the pain?” Startled by his suggestion I paused, it made sense just to give in to him, but the faces of my family flash before my eyes everyone I loved that would fall prey to his hand. “I will never give in to you again; you’re a sick and twisted bastard,” I say anger rising in me like a tidal wave. I can’t feel my left arm any longer; it was completely numb without thinking I flex my fingers to make sure its still there. Seeing me distracted for a moment, he lunged at me once more this time aiming for my heart, saw him a second to late he plunged the knife into my heart, and watched the life in me slip away. He won; I lost my life and everyone I had ever known, I had always thought he would die at my hand but I was wrong I died at his. Now he had my blood on his hands and soon would be going back to jail for his crime. My last hope was it was for life this time and the last thing I heard was the sirens in the distance.



My Secrets
“Please,” I silently begged her, “take me too; don’t leave me here with him.” She never saw the tears in my eyes or heard my silent pleas, the door shut softly behind her. I felt his hand on my shoulder and tried not to shutter with his touch, the order was next to come. “Go to my room,” he whispered in my little ear, giving me a knowing smile then turning me toward the doorway giving me a small push. I fought the urge to break down into tears, I knew they would not do me any good but I was scared even though I knew what coming. I climbed the first flight of stairs on trembling knees, when I reached the top I debated on running to my room and locking myself in. But I knew that would just make him mad, it was never good to make him mad. He had broken my brother’s nose just for having a C on his report card. So I turned to the next flight of stairs, the ones that would bring me closer to giving him what he wanted. If I gave in would it really stop, would he leave me alone forever? I wondered every time I was sent to his room, should I just given to his demands so I could try to have a normal childhood. Deep down I knew I would never be normal. I turned the corner to the bedroom he shared with my stepmom, fear nailed me to the floor I hated what was going to happen, I wished so often God would just kill me take me up to heaven so I could be with my mom safe and sound. Harsh thoughts for an 8 year old I know, but it was my greatest desire. I climbed up into his bed, laying down facing the wall; I could hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs. Tears broke free and streaked down my cheeks as I closed my little eyes and wished myself far far away. I heard him come into the room; he said nothing until he laid down next to me pulling me to him. Inwardly I shuttered at his touch, I hated to be touched by anyone especially him. Then the moment came, I mentally shut down and went on auto pilot. I knew what he wanted and didn’t need to be present for it. Sometimes it was like I was simply watching a movie, a poor little girl sitting beside her father being forced to do horrible things that were destroying her soul killing all of her innocence. This was the day I gave in, praying he would leave me alone forever if only I had know, if only I knew then what I know now. He forced me to get him hard, a blow job stroking and teasing, and then he would whisper in the dark room, “You know how to make it stop, just once that’s all I ask.” I shook my head, I finally agreed to his terms still clinging to the hope I could trust my father. I still remember that terrible pain and how I screamed. He buried my face into a pillow to muffle the sound; tears ran down my cheeks sobs racked through my little body, my hate for him grew that day. When he pulled away from me, I felt every movement all of them caused me pain. “Go get cleaned up,” he ordered, getting out of the bed. I moved slowly toward the bathroom, tears still running down my cheeks. After I shut the door I just let the tears flow curling up in the tub running hot water over my body. Something anything to wash away the dirty feeling in my soul or what was left of my soul. When I finally came out, he was sitting on the bed looking lost in thought and completely ignoring how I was feeling or the pain I felt as a result. From that day forward I vowed no man would ever cause me that much pain, there would never be anal sex again in my life. I stood there looking at him waiting for him to speak, finally he said, “I promised it would stop and it will.” He left it like that, inside I felt hope start to balloon up in my chest. Maybe now I could be normal, I could have friends and stop pushing people away. It would become a horrible memory of something I had to go through like a test God had sent for me to go through; I was a very naïve child then. It was months before he touched in that way again, every time he would say just one more time. At first I believed it, but with every one more time my faith in him faded and my hate grew. As time moved on nothing changed, my step mom never saw the abuse, her family only saw the happy smiling little girl and his family rarely saw me back then. I learned from a very young age to smile no matter what I was feeling; a pretty smile could make people believe your happy when deep down your dying. When I was 10 years old, I had problems sleeping so I would go downstairs and watch cartoons. When my parents found out, I had been sneaking downstairs to watch TV my punishment was the worst they could have thought of. Instead of having my own room on the same floor as my stepsisters I would move up to the floor with my parents. The room was smaller but that wasn’t the problem, it just made it that much easier for him. The night that haunts me the most was after I had moved upstairs. He always treated me like I was an adult during those times, so one night I though if I reminded him I was still just a little girl he would leave me alone. I heard him outside my door, just as it opened I grabbed my favorite doll she was almost as big as me. I held on to her as tight as I could while pretending to be asleep, when he came into the room and lay down beside me I expected him to try to take my doll away. Instead he chuckled in the dark room, and raped me again that night. There was something different that night but not what I had expected; reminding him I was still a little girl had turned him on more.