Status: I will try and update as much as I can. :)
The Secrets and Whispers of the Broken
One
8 years old.
Mommy and Daddy are fighting again. I can't take it much longer. I know that if I try and intervene that i will only get yelled at too. I hate it when they fight. They're cold voices towards each other escalate and soon evolves into earth shattering voices that I am sure the neighbors can hear. They never help, and I can see them shut their blinds to block their view from our living room bay window.
My mommy and daddy have never hit me, but their words can hurt so much more than a cold slap to the face would be. They only fight when they drink. They fight about money and because of their drinking we are losing money. The only time my daddy ever hurt me is when I snatched the cold whiskey out of his hand and threw the glass on the ground. As the glass shattered, their was a dead silence for a couple seconds before my daddy burst into a drunken rage and told me to pick the glass up. He pushed me into the glass and my knees crackled when the hit the glass. I cried out, but I already saw my dad grabbing his coat and leaving for another drink.
After the glass incident, I tried to hide my mangled knees, because my mommy and daddy don't remember anything when they wake up. They are completely different when they are sober. They wouldn't believe me if I said it was daddy. So I limped around the house and pus had started to ooze out and I got an infection. I had to go to the hospital for a long time because I had gotten sick from the infection.
I tell the doctor and my parents that I fell off my bike. I hate to lie, but I didn't want anyone to hate me.
Mommy and Daddy are fighting again. I can't take it much longer. I know that if I try and intervene that i will only get yelled at too. I hate it when they fight. They're cold voices towards each other escalate and soon evolves into earth shattering voices that I am sure the neighbors can hear. They never help, and I can see them shut their blinds to block their view from our living room bay window.
My mommy and daddy have never hit me, but their words can hurt so much more than a cold slap to the face would be. They only fight when they drink. They fight about money and because of their drinking we are losing money. The only time my daddy ever hurt me is when I snatched the cold whiskey out of his hand and threw the glass on the ground. As the glass shattered, their was a dead silence for a couple seconds before my daddy burst into a drunken rage and told me to pick the glass up. He pushed me into the glass and my knees crackled when the hit the glass. I cried out, but I already saw my dad grabbing his coat and leaving for another drink.
After the glass incident, I tried to hide my mangled knees, because my mommy and daddy don't remember anything when they wake up. They are completely different when they are sober. They wouldn't believe me if I said it was daddy. So I limped around the house and pus had started to ooze out and I got an infection. I had to go to the hospital for a long time because I had gotten sick from the infection.
I tell the doctor and my parents that I fell off my bike. I hate to lie, but I didn't want anyone to hate me.