Status: A work in progress for years and years and years ... etc
Headfirst for Halos
The End of the Incidents
They knew. My parents. Everyone.
I broke that night. Broke down into tears. The after effects of everything finally catching up with me.
The knfe had cut deep that night. The blood refusing to stop. My father rushed me to the hospital that night.
He had stepped in the room to find me in tears, blood spilling from my arms and the sheet below me covered with blood. My blood.
My parents found out then. I told them inbetween my sobs, not of Billie Joe, but of Brad. How he raped me. Abused me. I told them everything. From the first day till that Thursday. I couldn't see anything. Flash backs occupying my mind, making me relive those worse memories. For a small moment i forgot all about Billie Joe and how big an impact he made on me. All I could think about was Brad. How evil he was. And I poured out all of my feelings and pent up emotions.
How good it felt. A weight lifted from my shoulders.
I felt dizzy as I was rushed through the squeaky clean corridors of the hospital. People rushing around me. Then i fell asleep. A sense of peace washed over me, relaxation. My worries had gone. Melted away. Relief seeping through me with every heartbeat.
I awoke in the afternoon of Friday. The drugs they had given me to calm me down working well. My arms were bandaged up tightly. My mother sat at the side of my bed in an armchair, sleeping. I felt bad. What had I put them through? Their worries, fears.
My mother stirred and was soon awake. She comforted me in a soothing voice, her words lulling me into a place where I was safe. Protected.
She was telling me that it would be okay, that it was all over. Finished.
My father had went to the police after he knew his name. Brad Wuthers. He told them the full story. Then they came to see me. And I told them. The doctors done tests. Their proof. My proof.
Brad was arrested later that day. In school, no doubt.
I broke that night. Broke down into tears. The after effects of everything finally catching up with me.
The knfe had cut deep that night. The blood refusing to stop. My father rushed me to the hospital that night.
He had stepped in the room to find me in tears, blood spilling from my arms and the sheet below me covered with blood. My blood.
My parents found out then. I told them inbetween my sobs, not of Billie Joe, but of Brad. How he raped me. Abused me. I told them everything. From the first day till that Thursday. I couldn't see anything. Flash backs occupying my mind, making me relive those worse memories. For a small moment i forgot all about Billie Joe and how big an impact he made on me. All I could think about was Brad. How evil he was. And I poured out all of my feelings and pent up emotions.
How good it felt. A weight lifted from my shoulders.
I felt dizzy as I was rushed through the squeaky clean corridors of the hospital. People rushing around me. Then i fell asleep. A sense of peace washed over me, relaxation. My worries had gone. Melted away. Relief seeping through me with every heartbeat.
I awoke in the afternoon of Friday. The drugs they had given me to calm me down working well. My arms were bandaged up tightly. My mother sat at the side of my bed in an armchair, sleeping. I felt bad. What had I put them through? Their worries, fears.
My mother stirred and was soon awake. She comforted me in a soothing voice, her words lulling me into a place where I was safe. Protected.
She was telling me that it would be okay, that it was all over. Finished.
My father had went to the police after he knew his name. Brad Wuthers. He told them the full story. Then they came to see me. And I told them. The doctors done tests. Their proof. My proof.
Brad was arrested later that day. In school, no doubt.