On A Lonely Road

He yells at me, telling me I was never his daughter to begin with. That I should not be alive, that I should not be living with him, but in a foster home. That it's my fault my mother and her unborn child died in the crash.
I was at the young age of 4 when my mother started to go into labor. She was going to give birth to Ethanuel Dakota Pearce, a baby boy who would be my whole world. I remember being in the back seat of the car all excited that my brother was almost here. I kept on singing "I get to be a big sister, I get to be a big sister." I guess my mother couldn't handle me singing because next thing I know I have tape on my mouth. I was having a muffled scream trying to tell them to stop and take the tape off. I could tell my father was getting annoyed but I kept on going. My father turns around and slaps me across the face. I start crying and my mother is shocked next thing I know my mother screams, I see a bright light and BAM! I feel pain then nothing.
My name is Evelyn Ivy Pearce and I died along with my mother and brother. The only difference is that the paramedics brought me back (sadly) and not my mother or baby brother. Ever since that night my father told me it was my fault and I believed him. He gave me a descriptive detail of how my mother died at the age of 5, how the prole from the truck went to my mothers stomach and she suffered for hours knowing that her son Ethanuel died unborn. I suffered thinking it was my fault.
After being dead for three glorious minutes I had a wonderful 13 years (Note Sarcasm). At age 5 he gave me all the details of how my mothers body looked in the crash. At age 6 he would tape me down to a seat and make me watch him have sex with different women. At age 7 he tied me to the bed post and made different men put their hands on me. At age 8 he left me along a lot but he came home once in a blue moon to beat me. at age 9 he would try to shove food down my throat so i could choke. At age 10 he made me give him hand jobs. At age 11, when i started puberty, he would make me dance naked. At age 12 he started beating me worse than age 8. At age 13 he took the only thing that was dear to me, my virginity. at age 14 he would do everything above. at age 15 he sold me for sex to men. At age 16 he would rape me with his friends. At age 17 he would torture me, literally.
I am 17 about to turn 18 and nothing had changed at all. I watched as my father climbed on top of a busty fake blond hooker, while pulling off her shirt. I wanted to look away, but I knew that led to a beating later. I decided to look just above where my father was, at a lamp. At the end, though, I heard everything. To the high pitched moans, to the slap of my fathers nasty balls on her ass. I shuddered in disgust as I heard my fathers pre-cum and the females juices collide. I wanted to throw up or maybe even hide. Hide...3 more days left till I could leave, 3 days left till I turned 18, 3 days left of school for me, and 3 more days till I could get away from this abuse. Once my father was done with the blonde they both fell asleep, and I silently left.
I took a shower and did my necessities. I quickly went to my room not wanting my father to wake up and hear me. I closed my door and locked it with a chair I had in my room. I went to my window and I looked at the stars and I said to my self and to my mother to let me get away and survive.