Journal of a Broken Heart

My eyes are closed, but I'm seeing clearer than ever before. Standing on the edge of this bridge, away from the pain and anguish of the world, I feel free. I can hear the water below me. I can feel wind at my back, gently blowing my hair around me. In my hands I hold a notebook. This notebook is my journal. I still remember when I first started writing it. I wrote a story about my life...

~*~'~*~

A pair of deep blue eyes fluttered open. It was too early for her nap to be done, but something had woken her up. She sat up slowly, still dazed with sleep. Loud voices were coming from the other room. It was her parents. She stood up quickly and ran to the door. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the handle, then opened the door and ran out.

Her mom was sitting in the rocking chair, crying and begging her dad to be quiet. Her dad was screaming, his face was red and he didn't care how loud he was.

"Mommy!" she shouted, both scared and angry. She ran to her mom and flung her arms around her. "It'll be okay mommy, I promise!" she whispered, desperate to see her mother smile again. However, her mother just kept crying. Her father stopped yelling. He paused to stare at her before he walked away. His truck peeled out and he was gone.

~*~'~*~

My earliest memory...when I was only three years old. The journal is open in my hands. I have to read it. I have to know if I'm doing the right thing. And so I will read it all, starting with the very first thing I remember. Even then he was always angry. Even then he blamed me for the way his life turned out. The next few pages are only small memories. There are a few birthdays and the birth of my first brother. Some pages detail how we were kicked out by him. Others go into the years we spent moving around, never able to settle in one place. That is, until we came to the small town of Shoshone, Idaho. That was nearly ten years ago. When mom was with Jody...

~*~'~*~

She had to get away. He was chasing her and she had to get away. But she was too small. She was only five years old, and she didn't stand a chance against the monster behind her. She shrieked as he caught her and threw her into the air. She fell back down into his arms and hugged him tight. She loved him almost as much as her father. He was her hero, always there to dry her tears when she scraped her knee. He tucked her into bed every night, kissing her on the forehead and calling her his princess.

They lived with him for awhile, and then her grandparents bought her mom a trailer house. It was almost new. It was white with blue trim, and it had a thriving plum tree right out front; perfect for climbing. They all moved in immediately. Her mother, her brother, Jody, and her. They couldn't have been happier, or so she thought.

One night, she woke up to the sound of shouting. There were some loud thuds and the sound of something breaking. She rushed up out of bed and peeked out her door. He was holding her mom against the wall, his hand at her throat and her feet inches off the floor. The little girl screamed and shut her door. She ran and hid under her bed, crying so hard she threw up. She lay there in her bile the rest of the night, unable to sleep.

In the morning, she crawled out from under her bed and walked timidly to her bedroom door. She opened it cautiously, wishing that the night before could have been a dream. The living room was empty. She stepped out and looked around. There was a hole in the wall as proof of the incident she had tried to deny. She ran frantically through the kitchen and to her mom's room. She opened the door to find her mother and Jody sleeping peacefully.

She shut the door and walked away, confused. She couldn't understand what was going on. She focused on blocking the memory from her mind. She never wanted to think of it again.

~*~'~*~

My page is sprinkled with tears. I can still remember the look in her eyes... I now turn the pages. The years seem to fly by before me. I read about the warm summer days I spent with my grandparents in Washington. I read about the times I visited my dad in Oregon. He used to try and talk me and my brother into living with him instead of my mom. I never completely knew why I said no. He could have given me a better life. One without as many worries. But there was always the feeling of loyalty to my mom. It was as though leaving her would have been the equivalent of selling my soul. And then of course, there was the other reason...

~*~'~*~

She hadn't seen him for what felt like forever. Now she was eight years old and finally with him for the summer. When she arrived she found out that she had a new stepmother named Trish and a stepsister named Ashley. Ashley and her had become fast friends. And on this particular night, they were whispering excitedly back and forth, unable to sleep.

After a few minutes of conversation, they heard loud stomping. They became silent immediately and watched the door. It swung open to reveal her father standing there, paddle in hand. They both stared at him fearfully as he began shouting. He was still shouting when he came forward and grabbed the little girl by the wrist and yanked her out of bed.

She started crying as he dragged her outside and began to make use of his paddle. He seemed to put all of his strength and anger into each swing. Sometimes he would miss his target. He dragged the crying girl back to her room and threw her back in bed before turning to her brother. She turned her head away, unable to watch what she had just experienced.

Her brother's screams pierced the night and her heart. He continued to scream as he was brought back and given the same ritualistic return to his bed. He father shouted some more, though with less enthusiasm. He had worn himself out and was going back to his bed. He threatened that if they didn't stop crying and be quiet then he would come back and do it again.

The little girl buried her head in her pillow and tried not to cry. Ashley had been pretending to sleep the whole time and now stared at her. She quickly figured that the previous conversation was over though, and turned over and fell asleep. The little girl and her five year old brother finally quieted, knowing their fate if they didn't.

~*~'~*~

Anger. It's a powerful emotion. It gave him strength after a long day of work, and it gives me strength as I stand trembling with this notebook. I feel sick just remembering it. How many times had he asked me to abandon my mom for a better life with him? How many times had we fought because I wouldn't? I went back there for one more summer before I quit going all together. But I'm getting ahead of myself. There are things that happened that had nothing to do with him. There are things that happened right there at home. Or, right there at school...

~*~'~*~

Thirty seconds left. The whole class scribbling frantically. She was only on the first line of problems. She would stare at one for a couple of seconds, gasp slightly, and then scribble what she thought was the right answer. Mrs. Coombs was pacing around the room. Every now and then she would pause to look at a student's paper.

The little girl's eyebrows were tightly drawn. She knew she wouldn't finish in time. The timer went off then, and everyone put their pencils down. She sighed and passed her paper forward, knowing what was going to happen. She cringed when the teacher collected the papers.

"Most of you finished by the looks of it. Remember, if everyone gets a hundred, you all get a party." Mrs. Coombs said cheerily as she sat down to correct them.

In response to their teacher, the whole class turned to look at the girl. She shrank down in her desk, ready for the worst. Her paper sat at the bottom of the pile, mocking her. They had been doing these tests all year long. Everyone in the class knew the problems by heart. Well, almost everyone.

"Angel!" The teacher's voice rang out.

The little girl ducked down farther before answering, "Yes?"

"Would you like to explain why you didn't finish?" She looked both stern and exasperated. Maybe even a little like she enjoyed herself.

"I-I-I," she stuttered. She always seemed to start stuttering around people.

"Never mind, I can see that it's useless to ask." Her words cut. A few of the other students smirks hurt pretty bad too.

"Sorry," she whispered to no one in particular. She fought back tears as the teacher moved on to the next lesson.

~*~'~*~

That was only the beginning of school. First grade gave me a bad name. I had a special timer on my desk so the teacher could see how long it took me to finish my assignments. She was always so cruel about it. Flipping through the pages, past my first glasses, past my best friend moving to Hawaii, even past my evil third grade teacher. I stop at fifth grade, when everything started going horribly wrong...

~*~'~*~

Sitting in the farthest corner of the playground and staring at the other kids playing; this was the way she spent every recess when he was gone. The others had long since excluded her. She had tried to fit in. She changed her hair and her clothes. She made more mistakes in order to do things faster. Nothing worked. She let out a sad sigh and silently wished the bell would ring. It finally did, and she jumped up and ran towards the building.

Just as she came through the door, her foot caught on something and she fell...hard. Her hands were scraped and the wind was knocked out of her, but otherwise she seemed okay. She turned to see about six kids laughing, one of them imitating her. She didn't have to ask to find out what...or rather, who, she tripped on.

"What's wrong, baby?" One of them said mockingly.

Tears burned her eyes, but she just lay there. She always felt paralyzed by them.

"Awww...is the baby gonna cry?" Her vision was so blurred by now that she couldn't see who was talking anymore.

"Babies need diapers so they don't wet their pants!" The abuse continued even as they walked off to class.

She was known as a baby for only a little while. Then the diaper idea stuck, and she was known as pee girl. For some, this wouldn't have been much of an insult. To her, it was yet another way of excluding her from the rest.

~*~'~*~

So many times I've had people ask me what I was called when I went to that school. In an effort to bury it forever, I never told them. It's strange how such a pathetic little name could make me so miserable. That name followed me as I got older, and the teasing became so horrible that at times I begged my mom to let me stay home rather than go and face them. My grades dropped dramatically. I still don't know why they passed me onto the next grade. I won't go into the details of sixth. All I will say is that I was teased more, and one of my classmates died that year. Besides, it wasn't until seventh grade that I began feeling the need to take my own life...

~*~'~*~

Her mom was in the back room, smoking and drinking with other adults. Her brother was off with his friends. She was completely alone. In more ways than just one.

The knife was all she could find. No razors. She didn't know what else to use. It was thin and cold. She gently pressed her finger against the blade. It was too dull. It would take hours of hacking away at herself to do any damage. She didn't have the time or energy to try it.

Anger built up inside her. She wanted to make the pain stop. She felt like God was punishing her. Then, she got an idea. Why couldn't she punish herself all at once? Then maybe the other hurts would stop. Then maybe the others would see who she really was.

Timidly, she lightly slapped herself on the face. It stung a little, but the feeling inside was worth it. A little braver, she slapped herself harder. She was getting a strange kind of rush off of it. She punched herself in the leg as hard as she could and had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She continued to hit and kick herself, her anger mounting and her tears flowing freely.

She showed no mercy. She hit her gut so hard she almost threw up. She hit her cheek so hard a dark bruise formed almost immediately. The frenzy went on until she was so tired and so sore that she couldn't move. She cried for a different reason now. She cried because she was ashamed of herself. In all of her life, she never imagined that she would stoop to this.

~*~'~*~

Yet another thing I've never told anyone about. I wanted the pain to stop, so I caused myself as much pain as possible. I know, it doesn't make any sense at all. A lot happened when I was in seventh grade. Like when my life as I knew it was turned upside down...

~*~'~*~

The brisk air had her practically jumping to keep warm. She tried to remember if she had done everything she needed to that morning. She glanced back to look at the house two blocks down. Something was going on. A large black van suddenly stopped directly in front of her house. A group of people in dark outfits jumped out and ran towards the house. Trees blocked her from seeing what was happening.

(Oh please let it be the neighbor's house! Oh God don't let them be robbers or something and please let it be the neighbor's house!) She thought fleetingly. The bus pulled up just then, and even though instinct screamed otherwise, she turned around and got on the bus.

When school ended, a teacher caught her and told her she was supposed to go to her grandmother's. Her heart began racing. (What could possibly be going on that would make me have to go out there!?) she thought wildly.

Her grandmother explained everything that night. She told her that one of her mother's friends had been busted for illegal drug use. Apparently, he had been doing it at her mother's house. Her mother was under arrest until further notice. She went to her room and flung herself on the bed, dissolving into tears instantly. She had always hated her mom's friends, and now she hated them even more.

The next day was Saturday, and her mother was out on bail. They met at her grandma's store and hugged like there was no tomorrow. Her mother gave her the details of what the SWAT team (aka supposed robbers) had done. The SWAT team had broken the door open and swarmed the house. Her brother had a gun pointed at him immediately. They searched the house and handcuffed her mother and the guy who was in trouble.

After her mom was done explaining, she did something very strange. She took her daughter into the bathroom and had her drink a lot of water. She kept making her daughter drink until she couldn't handle any more. Then her mother gave her a cup and told her what to do. This process was repeated twice more over the course of three days.

She was too young to understand what was going on at the time. All she knew was that she wanted her mother back, and she would do anything to make that happen.

~*~'~*~

When I found out what she had been making me do, I was disgusted and angry. It seemed that I was constantly having to be responsible for her. I began having to take over the duties of the house. I was in charge of making sure my brother and I got ready for school in time. It was my job to cook and clean the house. I had to get my mom up in time for work. Slowly, I became the adult of the house.

The next year I changed schools. I left my old name behind me and made friends for what felt like the first time. I went on to eighth grade. That September I saw my father for the first time in two years...

~*~'~*~

He was coming to visit. She had spent all day cleaning because he was coming to visit. She talked to him on the phone and he told her when he would be there. She watched the clock, barely able to contain her excitement. He had always loved her. He wanted her to live with him. She could never abandon her mother, but she thought about it frequently.

A hard knock on the door sent her flying from her chair to answer it. He towered over her. His blue eyes reflected hers and his blond hair was just the same. (Even if quite a bit shorter.) Her heart swelled to see him and she threw her arms around him to prove it.

"Daddy!" She yelled brightly. She had missed him intensely.

"Hi sweetie." He seemed a bit distracted, but pleased all the same. "Where's your mom?"

"She's in her room." She replied quickly. "She says this is your time with us and she doesn't want to interfere."

He frowned and wrinkled his eyebrows. "That's bullshit. There's no reason for her to be hiding in her room and leaving you kids out here." Leave it to him to find something wrong within the first few minutes.

"Daddy, it's okay! We're fine with just you!" She said it enthusiastically, hoping he would see it from their view.

No such luck.

"Tell your mom to get her ass out here and spend some time with you too!" He demanded. "If you were living with me this kind of crap wouldn't happen! She shouldn't spend all of her time in her room doing drugs with her friends anyways!"

She flinched at his las comment. The devastation from a few months earlier was still fresh. The night carried on the same track, except when he left for a few minutes and came back with hard alcohol of some sort. He drank quite a bit and ended up getting so angry with their mom, (who was still in her room) that he began yelling at all of them.

Her mom finally came out and told him he had to leave. He insisted that he couldn't drive and that the hotels in the town didn't take debit cards. When her mom mentioned the ATM, he exploded. He stomped outside and kept yelling. Her mother ordered him to leave right then. When he still refused, the police were called.

She hid in her room, hugging her knees to her chest and crying. A police officer came in and asked her if she was okay. She simply kept insisting that this wasn't supposed to happen. They finally left her alone and escorted her dad off the property. He left in the morning.

She kept in contact with him via email. He told her that she was stupid for letting her mom call the cops. He said she should have stood up for him instead of hiding in her room like a baby. She fought back. She asked him how he could blame her. She told him he was wrong. He retaliated with long stories about how her birth had ruined his life in more ways than one. This fight ended up lasting a few months, and on October 25th, he said something so horrible that she quit talking to him altogether.

It wasn't until two years after that she made an attempt to see him again. She had a dozen reasons not to go, and only one for why she should. She wanted to know....She needed to know if it was over. She couldn't just give up. She needed to find out if there was any hope left for them. If only she would have stayed home.

The plane touched down in Portland, Oregon. After about an hour of running around the airport with no sense of direction, she and her brother finally located her grandmother (father's mother). Then they spent a long drive through seemingly endless greenery to get to Parkdale. Upon arrival, everything went downhill.

They knocked on the door to her father's house, scared but excited. He answered in what looked like his pajamas. He seemed a bit confused to see them at first, then he mumbled something about forgetting the day. He stepped aside and let them through.

"Is she staying too?" He asked apprehensively.

"Yes, for a few days at least." Her grandma replied.

"I wasn't really planning on her being here to." He said grumpily. She frowned at this. "You'll have to sleep on the small couch. There are blankets in the linen cupboard." He said before returning to his computer to play World of Warcraft.

"I'll leave you three for now. Call me when you're ready to come over to my house." Her grandmother said before hugging them and leaving.

(And to think that he accuses me of being immature and lazy!) She thought as she took a look around the disgusting house. It was hard to believe that anyone could live like this. Even her messy little trailer was cleaner than this pig sty.

Just then a loud cry caught her attention. Her new baby brother was standing in his doorway. The gate which kept him in seemed to be the cause of his noisy distress. Her heart melted at the sight of him, and she almost forgot about he father altogether. Almost.

"Hey could one of you kids get him a bottle?" He said without looking up from his game.

She rolled her eyes and went over to her littlest brother. He was holding an empty bottle and staring at her with awe. She smiled and grabbed the bottle before heading to the kitchen. He father hollered that she had to use the soy milk for the bottle. (Just like me when I was that age.) She thought as she carried the full bottle back to her brother.

"Hiya little guy!" She said warmly. He responded with more weird looks and gurgles. She handed him the bottle and sat before him, entranced by his every aspect.

He had his father's color of eyes, but his mother's shape. His face was round and pudgy. His hair was blond and wispy. (He has more hair than his dad!) She thought with a smile. Everything about him made her happy right then. (This is why I came.)

Everything went fine for the first few days. They took care of the baby while their dad played his game. Their stepmother came home from work in the afternoon. Their dad left for his job around ten pm. It seemed like things were going great.

Then one day their dad sat them down and asked them what their plans were. At first, she was excited to tell him about her dreams for college and her plans of becoming a chef one day. That is, until he shot them down. He insisted that there were no *famous* chefs out there. (A. Who cares!? B. What about Emerald?!?) He told her she was just like her mother and she would never make it through college. He managed to drag out her faults into a three hour speech before telling her that her only hope in life was for her to marry a rich man.

She didn't cry in front of him. Whether it was out of pride or fear, she didn't know. All she knew was that she couldn't let him see her cry. And so the once happy trip turned into a nightmare. The hope she had tried to hold on to was ripped away. Her love for him diminished, and she was left wondering who she really was.

The trip passed quickly after that. They left after approximately eighteen days. She stared out the window on the plane ride home, wondering if she would ever speak to him again.

~*~'~*~

I broke a frame a little after that, and I saved one shard of glass. I keep it hidden in my room and take it out every now and then. It's sharper than any knife or razor in my house. I know I probably wont use it. I can't die just yet.

I know I don't live for myself. I live for those around me. I couldn't hurt my mother in that way. I still have enough family that loves me to keep me alive.

And so, standing on this bridge, what am I doing? If I'm not going to jump, why am I here?













The pages flutter down one by one, as I slowly tear them out of my journal.





I'm ready leave my life behind...and start a new one...



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