Since High School in 2014, I have been writing a book about the struggles of a boy who has gone through a traumatizing life and wanting to learn to be someone he is learning to become. I hope to have the book finished sometime soon, but enjoy the prologue of the book:
Prologue:
I hate living in this house. It feels like a prison every time I am stuck in my own bedroom. I live in constant fear about whether they will come through the door, but today is different. I can hear the footsteps getting closer to my bedroom door. I feel sick to my stomach and my heart is racing really fast. I know it’s her. She’s the only one home right now.
God, I wish this wasn’t happening. It happens every day. Why every day? I would at least prefer once a month, or once a week, but why every single day? I want to run away or just die. I wish I just died here, or earlier. If I run now, will they catch me? Do I know where I’ll go if I run?
She’s getting closer.
I should of hid the laptop at least or thrown it away. She would not have noticed anything if I did.
No, that would just make things worse. There is no winning here.
Damn it, she’s here.
“What did you get on your test today Lucas?” she began asking with angry eyes.
“Uh… just a ‘B’ I think, the teacher didn’t have them graded by the time I left.” I said, looking around her seeing if she brought the one thing I did not want in that room.
She looked at me with her lips plucked in an angry position.
“You got a ‘C’ Lucas” she said in a fierce tone, “and why’s that?”
She began to reveal that she had a belt In her hand. I really wished that she didn’t. My only hope is to answer that question properly. Hopefully if I say what she wants to hear she won’t have to hit me. That does not matter at this point. That question will always be engraved in my mind as troublesome. No matter what I say, consequences will come. I’ve studied all week for this test and last week too. I don’t understand how I would of received such a low letter grade. She even monitored me to make sure I did study, why is she asking me questions I do not understand. I am always stuck in this room. I had nothing else to do.
I know that sound. It's very clear what's going on outside of my bedroom, that sound, now making my stomach turn. Why does this have to be every day? Why not once a month? Or a week? Why does she have to do this every single time? I should have hidden that Mac Laptop when I had the chance. But what chance is that, I'm always in this stupid room doing work. Damn it, she's coming, and that means.... great she has that too. My heart is racing too fast, I’m too scared to say that I tried. That won’t be enough for her.
“I didn’t study” I said with tears on my face.
I only hope that giving her the answer she wants will mean I don’t have to get punished today. I pray to god that it does.
“get in the room NOW!”
Today it did not.