A Weekend Freewrite

A weekend freewrite has three prompt; which I will mark in bold. I suggest, if you would like to try the multiprompt, you avoid reading this. The First Sentence is the first prompt.

A Miserable Life

Part 1

My only defence was to write down every word they said. I could never fight back. They were adults, I was a young kid. We all know how the world goes around. Your word has no value when you are a kid. Even when other adults know you are right, they will let things slide, pretending to not know the truth, or claim that you are a liar. They seek peace; without confrontation.

Their words hurt me. They portrayed me as if I was rebellious teen who was planning a mass shooting. I was not. I was defending myself from being a victim, and now they see me as if my heart is corrupted by evil. I can never prove to the world that it is not that way. Their dark words ruminate in my head; they echo in these hollow chambers. After a while, it is difficult to trust myself. I used to believe every word they said for all these years, and now things changed.

Sometimes I don't think I should believe myself, my memories. We all do mistakes; our brains are not perfect. I cannot comprehend how I could be as evil as they say; but maybe I am. Maybe I am a victim because I deserve to be targetted, to be hated. What goes around comes around. If that is true, then maybe what I got is what I deserve. I might deserve way worse than that, and my whole life will be a series of punishments. I want to quit this life, not wanting to find out. I do not want to be targetted for the rest of my life.

Part 2

Eloise was my half-sister, but everyone thought she was my cousin. We did not live together anymore. I missed her. When she was around, she would either take some hits too, or else help me and defend me. But I am on my own now.

This hatred that they have, they are planting it inside my heart. And it is growing. There is an unexplainable darkness festering. I am writing this words, hoping to understand this darkness; to shed some light on it. There is anger that cannot be bottled up any longer. There is no one to direct it to. Lashing out would only make my situation worse, and then I would hate myself more than I already do.

I am unsure of why I hate myself so much. Have I been so unfortunate and I hate my fate? As I wrote, it is likely that I deserve all hell's damnation. Words aren't even able to make this clear. I only know words. How will I survive?

Eloise, why don't you come back. I could try to call her, maybe she can save me. Get me out of this house, and take me living with her. I won't though. I do not want to ruin her life. It's already messed up. She might still be with that guy, Jacob. I don't know what she sees in him. Maybe she sees our father; they say that we tend to be attracted to our parents. Jacob is such a douche though. He controls her and hits her, even though she does not admit it. I blame him for losing contact with her. There's no other reason why she would stop talking to us; why she would stop talking to me. Her little brother, who is still chained in this hell.

Part 3

I still remember the last time they saw a movie at our house. We were all sitting on the couch, with some sncaks and loud TV. That's how we used to watch them. She had invited him over, or he imposed. I don't think he trusted her. I was sitting on the corner of the couch, and Jacob was sitting next to me. Eloise was on the other end of the couch. My mum and dad were both on different arm-chairs, whenever they were seated and watching. Mum would spend more time going to the kitchen bringing snacks or cleaning dinner's dishes.

That night is scarred in my brain. It was somewhat cold, so we had put blankets over our bodies. Jacob reeked of cigarettes smoke; it was awful. It ruined my apetite. I could never eat snacks when he was sitting next to me. He uesd to give me this glare that used to turn my intestines into knots. I sweat he hated me. That night, I could see Eloise be uncomfortable, pushing herself onto the edge of the couch. I wasn't sure why. Until I felt his creepy hands slide down my back. I froze. My family was there. His girlfriend was there. Why were his hands sliding down my back? Why were they reaching inside my pants?

_{Courtesy of Pixabay}

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