My step father was an awful man. He once had locked me in an attic when I was nine for a whole day. I had to pee in an old Halloween bucket that was green with spiders printed on the side. He told me I was useless and things were better when I wasn’t around. He hurt my mom too. He didn’t work. And he took all her money. He made my mom try to unalive herself by cutting a gas line in her room while I was at school. Mr. Green insisted that I call him father instead of my own dad and when I wouldn’t he’d break things. After my mom finally left him. He stalked us. He’d drive by our new home and try to get me and my brother into the car with him while we were riding our bikes. He undid the nuts on my moms tire. It came off while we were going down a hill. One night he threatened to burn down our house with all of us in it. It stopped for a few years and I’m an adult now. And I’ve started seeing him again. First it was at a grocery store. He tried making conversation with me and I felt the blood drain from my face when he reached for my child. I felt like we were being watched as I walked home. I shouldn’t have walked home. He found me. A few days later there was a knock and when I answered no one was there but there was a note that said you hurt your dads feelings. I should’ve called the police. I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe at that time I thought I could handle it or get away again.
I started to forget the note after sometime. But then I heard him. I don’t know how he got into my home. But his voice was on my baby monitor. He was singing to my child. I ran to my babies room. But it was to late. She was gone. He stood there smiling at me. My baby laid still in her crib with a pillow on her face. I ran to her not caring about the danger it was to get close to him. I picked her up her body was warm. She wouldn’t wake up. She wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t cry for me. She had never even gotten the chance to call me mama. I collapsed. It was all I could do. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. My baby was gone. I couldn’t even cry. Next thing I knew I was laying on the ground my head was warm and wet pain throbbed through me. And I passed out.
When I woke up it was dark. My head throbbed. The air was stale and musty. The ground was wet and cold. It felt like days had passed in that room before he showed his ugly face to me again. When the lights flicked on and the footsteps started down the stairs. I looked for anything I could use as a weapon. But there was nothing. He laughed at the sight of me. Told me I looked just like my mother now. I threw myself at him with all my force scratching at his face hitting where ever I could. He grabbed me by the hair and threw me to the ground. Fucking bitch is all he could say. After everything! That’s all he had to say to me. Each day after that was the same. I don’t know why he didn’t tie me up or kill me maybe he enjoyed seeing me struggle to escape. Seeing my sorrow hearing my cries. I don’t know. He gave me barely enough food and water to live. I decided to stop eating and drinking after a while. I wanted death to take me. I wanted my baby. I thought of all the things I should’ve done differently. How different things could’ve been. How I’d still me be happy. With my husband and my baby in our little house doing my stupid crafts that gave me so much joy while my precious little one napped her day away. I was starving. My ribs showed. My fingers were purple blue from the constant cold. My hands and feet pruned from the always drenched floor. He hit and beat me for not eating. I didn’t care. I didn’t cry anymore. I was already dead in a way.
I was eventually found. On the brink of death in his basement. It had been close to a year before they had found me. My husband and mother have been trying to get through to me and everyone calls me a survivor. After a long stay at the hospital I went home. But I was already gone. A shell of a person. Gone. This is my final goodbye to all of the ones who tried to get through to me. Help me. To all of those who loved me. My body needs to go as my soul did long ago. My baby needs me. If there’s an afterlife I hope to see her there and hold her again. To anyone else reading this trust your gut when things are bad hold your little ones a bit closer. You never know when someone will steal your world from you.
(This is my first time writing something like this. Unfortunately some of the story is true. But I’m safe and so is my child. This story is just based on where my mind went thinking of what could’ve gone wrong after my childhood and how obsessed he was with me)