You're 9 years old. 
You're sitting in the corner of your bedroom. 
Scared out of your innocent mind. 

Heart beating. 
You hear his footsteps. 
"Isabella! Get over here now!" 

Silence. 
You cannot speak. 
You cannot hear anything more
than your daddy screaming. 

Your bruises,
cover your  ivory skin. 
You wish someone would say something,
anything!
You're too scared to say it yourself. 
You're trapped, in a house with
no windows or doors.

You're 11 years old. 
It's been 2 years since he first hurt you.
It's 5th grade. 
Walking through those doors on the first day
was the hardest thing you've done.
Will anyone notice? 
Will anyone say anything? 

Terrified to think that anyone could
find out. 
Your life is in his hands,
he's powerful. 
He has the ability to end your life. 
At any moment. 
Remember that. 

You're 15 years old. 
Your freshman year of high school. 
The "best" years of your life!!
You're forced to wear a hoodie to hide
the dark painful spots covered all over your body. 
They expose your past.
You're forced to lie due to fear. 
You're helpless. 

Until one night, 
CPS shows up at your house. 
Your dad screaming insisting nothing
is wrong and that you're okay. 
Because that's what we want them to think?
You still love him. 
It's "not his fault". 
He's just drunk. 

They take you anyway. 
They take you away to this foreign home,
you have to call yours now. 
You're scared. 
Are these people nice?
Will they hurt me?
Well maybe they were right..
Maybe my dad did something wrong. 

You ponder these thoughts. 
Every.
Single. 
Night. 

You're 17. 
It's your senior year. 
You cannot wear your dress to prom,
simply because of all the scars
from your past. 
People point it out and laugh. 
You cannot live a normal life.

You fear everyone is going to hurt you. 
You fear everyone is going to leave you. 
You fear to be loved. 
You fear that nobody will accept your past. 
You fear everyone will think that you're the
helpless victim. 
You fear your entire life. 
Even after it's over.