dadâ | PetitePets – top bar hive beekeeping

It’s official, my phone is toast. The screen screen is entirely blank, covered with tiny droplets of water. And I, powerless over technology, beg god for a second chance. This cannot be happening! That precious piece of metal and wires was my 17th birthday present. When I tore the wrapping paper, I recognized exactly what kind of phone it was. Weeks before, I had taped pictures of the phone to my mom’s everyday appliances, such as her coffee maker. She would groggily waddle downstairs, grab a mug, and observe the picture. I was amazed she didn’t take the picture off until 2 weeks later. Yes, my phone was my best companion, besides my best friend, Poppy. After my mom organized a texting plan, I slowly began to learn how to manipulate the keys. You see, my mom is one of those technological idiots. I wasn’t allowed to get a phone because my mom was afraid I would abuse it and she would not be able to turn it off or check my messages. My family owns only one TV set (Poppy has 7!) and a small computer, for my dad’s job. He’s a writer. Not famous yet, but he’s getting there. He uses a weird pen name; I think its J. Kooper or something. My dad’s always hidden in the study, which barely gives me time to talk with him. Months after I received my full keyboard phone, I became the queen of texting. My phone is always in my pocket, my thumbs eager to stroke the keyboard. That is why I am so devastated now, glaring at my broken cell phone. It’s all Billy Docking’s fault. He was the one who pushed me into the pool. He’s the one who lured me into coming to his party.

The time is Christmas, a time for family and laughter and of course what a kid loves the most, presents. I am 7 years old and I remember not to many details about the weather or what was on TV and even though it is Christmas day I don’t expect this day to have such a profound effect on the rest of my life. On Christmas day it was great there were presents about and I had my own pile which I was excited about opening and tearing through the wrapping paper that I remember was blue and revealing my toys. I played with my toys and then it was time to get dressed as we every Christmas made are way to my dad’s mum and dad’s house as that is where is had are Christmas dinner and then we watched the queens speech without fail and munched through as many nuts and sweets that we could possibly get through. What stands out about this day is not while at their house but on the way home as the atmosphere was cold and chilled. We made it back to the house and while my mother was putting the key in the door I turned and seen my dad looking at me in a way that would have frozen the warmest of hearts a look that would send a chill down you back and a look that you could feel sucking the joy from the world. With it being Christmas day and the fun that I had I could not understand why a look like that had any place within a day so fun. I got about 3 steps within the house where I felt a short Sharpe burning sensation on my rear which I knew within mille seconds that I had just been wacked across the arse and was I went to turn I was shoved towards the stairs and was told “BED, UP NOW” I remember going up stairs and thinking to myself why have I just been sent to bed. I sat at the top of the stairs shouting and crying wanting to come down and play with my toys but on to be told “GET IN YOUR ROOM NOW!” to which I did before I could another smack. My room as you entered had a large built in cupboard on the left and in front as you walk in there located was bunk beds and to the right as you walked in was a clothes wardrobe. I know I was sitting the top bunk and was sitting at the back with my back leaning against the wall and I am was still crying but I had been crying that long that I was at the stage were you start to yawn and my under my eyes that was sore from wiping that with a stupid knitted jumper that I had on.
I raise my head as I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and I was thinking at last I can go down and play with toys. The door swung open and there walking through the door was my dad but to my surprised he shuts the door behind him, what can this mean I remember thinking then he approached the bed and pulled my legs so I was now sitting on the end of the bed with him very close to me. He started by saying that I should have been good and that he was sorry for hitting me but then he did something that took me by surprise he started pulling at my pants and my under wear and pulled them to my knees. This was something that had never happened before and then he started to touch me in a sexual way but it was only touching on this occasion that turned out to be the start of a nightmare that I was living day in and day out but he told me not say anything to anyone and this would between me and him. This is the day that Christmas day never seemed to be the same again.
At a young age I never knew it was wrong but I did come to learn that it was painful as it was always the same routine it would start with a beating and when I say beating I don’t say that lightly as it was far from the first time of a smack across the arse. I was beating to the point where I closed my eyes and dreamed of other places as the blows rained down.
Touching it started with but it never stopped there it progressed within weeks and with pain that came with it was a pain that lasted a life time. It reached the point of forced intercourse were I would be left in the worst pain ever wishing that I was dead, dead? Is there were the desire for death stems from? We will see. I remember being in school and I could feel a horrible feeling of something dripping down my leg and I knew what it was, I rushed to the toilet to grab tissue to clean the blood before it dripped on the floor and it got to the point where I had to screw tissue up and stick between my arse cheeks to stop the blood from spilling down my leg. That sounds as bad as it could but that was just a part of the slope that I was forced on.
I can remember feeling scared and alone and sore there the feelings that stood out the most when I cast my mind back and think about them dreadful days. The part of being alone was strange as I was surrounded by loads of people within my family and people in school even people in my house, it was a crazy time as I would want to stay a friends or at family houses but no matter where I went I knew I was never going to be able to avoid him and what he was making me do. Things carried in for about another 2 years that would have been making me around 9

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How is the beginning my story??

I wish i was dead and i started to write my life down and this is the begining but doubt i’ll finish it?

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