What is something you’ve seen that you wish you hadn’t seen?

[I read this story today and i wanted to share the same with you all. A must read.]

I wish I had never seen my Father's lifeless body, my Mother hanging from the ceiling, and the look in my rapist’s eyes.

“Daddy, wake up! It’s christmas!”

It was a cold December 25th, blankets of white snowflakes falling on the roof of the home that belonged to my picture-perfect family.

I sat there, straddling his waist (in a non-sexual way) with a frown on my face, crossing my arms over my tiny little chest, wondering why my father wasn’t waking up.

This time, I moved closer towards his ear, and shouted, knowing it would annoy him.

“Papa!! Wake up, I wanna go open my presents!”

Spoiled little child I was, I scrunched up my face in anger and hoped off his bed. I waddled over to the bathroom my parents shared and tugged on my mothers dress.

“Momma, daddy’s not getting up and I wanna open my gifts now! Can you please wake him up?”

She finished brushing her teeth and headed over to my fathers (lifeless) body.

“Harold, wake up, darling. It’s christmas,”

She nudged him on the shoulder, but he didn’t move. I stood a good 5ft away, and watched as her face slowly became pale and worryful.

I observed her cautiously move her hands over to the left side of chest, wait a couple of seconds, then went to check his pulse. A glass tear slid down her cheek, before more started to flow out of her eyes.

“Ava, baby, hand Mommy her phone,”

“Why?”

“Just hand it to me, Ava! Now!”

My mother and I were not allowed to ride in the paramedics, so we had to take the car.

“What’s wrong with Daddy?”

She didn’t reply. Just kept her eyes focused on the almost deserted roads, since it was Christmas morning.

We arrived at the hospital and had to sit on the uncomfy chairs. After an hour had passed, and kind lady came up to us and asked us to follow her.

I trailed behind her, with my Mother by my side, in my reindeer onesie.

“I am so sorry to inform you, but Harold has passed. We tried to resuscitate him, but it was too late. He had an u-”

“What’s going on?” I questioned, impatiently.

I was beyond furious at this point, seeing that my Christmas morning was now ruined. I hated this smelly hospital and just wanted to go home and open my gifts.

“Ava! Not now. Hush,” my Mother warned me with a tear-stained face.

I stomped my foot and wailed my hands in the air.

“Where is my father? I want to see my father! Take me to my father now, lady” I screamed, pointing my finger at the innocent doctor.

“Ava!! If-”

“It’s fine, really. May I speak to you, without the child?”

My mother sighed, giving up. She followed the doctor, leaving me alone in the hallways of the ghostly hospital.

I slid down the wall, landing on my bum. Tears were evident now and I was on the verge of throwing a tantrum.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

I looked up with my big brown eyes to see a man with a scruff beard and long hair, wearing dark clothing. He was crouched down in front of me, and his breath smelt like alcohol mixed with coffee.

I squeezed my face up in disgust and turned my head to the side.

“Momma told me not to talk to strangers,”

I was a smart child. Or so I thought.

“I’m not a stranger. I’m here to be your friend. You can trust me,”

I peeked over back at him and decided to tell him what was wrong. After my whining and complaining, he gave me a look of pity.

“I am so sorry to hear that, sweetie. How about I take you for some ice cream to cheer you up?”

I quickly shook my head. I knew it was bad enough that I was talking a stranger, and knew how much worse it would be to be leaving with a stranger. He gave me a look that made me uneasy, so I kept my mouth shut after that.

“Aw, come on. I will buy you any flavor you want, just follow me. We’re friends, remember? We’ll be back before your mother even notices your gone,”

I contemplated going with this guy. Ice cream did sound really good, since it would be my only treat I would’ve received that fateful morning. I grabbed ahold of his stretched forward hand, and he led me to the back of the hospital.

“This is not ice cream,”

I was starting to get suspicious and wanted to make a run for it. But he had a firm grip on my hand that let me know that he wasn’t planning on letting me go any time soon.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon. We just got to make a quick stop first,

Next thing I know I being shoved into the handicap washroom, and he is unbuckling his pants. I screamed but he placed a hand around my neck and told me to shut up or else he would hurt me. I’m guessing you know what happened next. I was raped. But I didn’t know the term for it then.

3 months had passed.

3 months after I had found out about my father's death. He had an undetected heart problem and he died in his sleep. I was 6.

3 months after I was raped by a man who promised me ice cream.

When the despicable low-life was done with me that day, he left and I was left alone to go find my mother again. She hugged me cause she thought I had gone missing and then asked me why I looked and smelt like that. I remained quiet. I never told her and I now regret it deeply.

She told me of the news and I don’t think I’ve ever cried that in my life. I was literally hyperventilating. I loved him so much.

Anyways, back to the 3 months after. I came home to find my mother hanging from ceiling. She had hanged herself. She was dead. Money was tight and the death of my father was too much for her too handle.

I was placed into foster care. Grandparents? Never had those. And if I did, they were never apart of my life.

I was taken in by a loving family that had 3 wonderful children. Couldn’t support me any longer so they put my back in the system.

Home after home, nothing felt right. I was so messed by that point that I didn’t know how to cope. I was put on medications, but it only made it worse.

12 years old, I cut all my hair off and dyed the remaining black.Wore thick black eye makeup to school everyday and didn’t have any friends. Matter of fact, I still don’t.

Yelled at everyone and everything that came in my way. I didn’t want anything more than my parents back and if you weren’t them, I hated you.

I went through every phase in the book. From trying to fit in, from trying my best to stand out, nothing worked. I’ve tried so many times to be someone I’m not that I don’t even know who I fucking am anymore.

I missed out on all those milestones. Never had a sleepover, never even been invited to one. Never tasted birthday party cake like the one they show on TV, or ever even been on a vacation.

I dated this one guy dated last year. Real sweetheart, told me he loved me. For some time, I loved him too. Then he cheated on me because I wasn’t ready to have sex. I haven’t trusted anyone since.

Started cutting as soon as I found out what is was. It takes alot for someone to be wanting to turn their mental pain into physical pain.

Diagnosed with a severe anxiety disorder and depression earlier this year. I figured something was wrong with me.

How does one turn from a happy little girl, full of sunshine, without a care in the world, to a depressed teenager who doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions?

I don’t think people realize what I’ve been through. When I tell them my story they shrug it off saying that they're are people who have it worse.

Look, I get that, okay? I get that they are people who are dying and my problems won’t ever compare to theirs. But what does that mean?

I know very well that emotional pain is relative. Your telling me that I can’t be depressed because someone in Syria is as well? Ha, you’re fucking wrong.

Does it mean my problems aren’t valid because they're not as bad as theirs? Does that mean that I don’t have the right to feel like I’m been cursed all my life because they are people who are struggling everyday? Please let me know, cause right now I’m so fucking confused.

I’m so fucking confused. I think it’s finally happening. I’m finally losing it. My mind, it was lost a long time ago. I’ve been relying off of- hell, I don’t even know. My sanity is definitely gone. I’m going crazy. I can’t even think straight without wanting to end it all.

I’m failing. I can’t fucking focus in class. My mind always wanders off to unmentionable things.

I’m 17 now. Will be graduating next year. Not going to college. It’s just not a place for me. Plus, there no money. My foster parents have other things to worry about than sending some disappointment to college.

To be honest, I wish I worked harder. I wished I pushed myself to strive for the best but I didn’t. I have no motivation at all. And I know it’s not good to have a fixed mindset, but any form of growing scares me right now. Nothing ever good has happened from growing, at least in my life.

I’m scared. Once I’m 18, I’m on my own. In the big bad world that my father used to tell me about. He told me that I can’t really trust anyone. I figured that out a long time ago.

I wish I didn’t have to go anonymous. But I just can’t live with the feeling that I might face some sort of backlash or get any form of hate. It’s all too much for me right now.

I’m sorry for my sob story. But my sob story is my life. I’ve been imprisoned in the cruel, harsh reality of this world for as long as I can remember and I can’t change it. I appreciate you taking the time to read this, it really feels good to let it all out. I apologize for any grammatical errors, I’m crying right now and eyes are blurry.

But, before you go on with your life, can I ask of you a question?

I’m not looking for attention or anything, but would it be selfish of me to end my life? Don’t bother trying to talk me out of if, because I have been having suicidal thoughts as long as I can remember. I would’ve done it by now, but I can’t put other people through the pain of having to find my body.

Trust me, I know how it feels. I found my mothers, and that image is etched into your brain forever. No matter how much you try to erase that sight, it won’t ever leave and will most likely haunt you for eternity.

But I’m asking, it won’t hurt anybody, right? I’ve read and watched plenty of things that tell me how commiting does not end the pain, but only transfers it onto to your loved ones, but what if you don’t have any loved ones?

You know what, nevermind. Forget it.

[Literally My eyes were tearing after reading this]