“I don’t want to be home. I don’t know why I’m even here. I don’t want to live here any more. This place is crazy. I’m not happy. Nobody LOVES me”, I thought.
He keeps touching me. He keeps scaring me. I come from school and he’s already there waiting for me. I didn’t know at times if it was wrong or right to keep letting him do this. But I was afraid. He made me think it was okay. I just didn’t feel comfortable when he was there. I don’t want to be here. Where can I go to get away? Most days I ran. I ran from home to find anything other than the misery that overwelmingly surrounded me. Only to be brought back here again and again. After school, I get to the house and the door is locked. I peer through the window and there he is on the couch doing something by himself that scares me. I leave and just wander the streets until someone comes home. When I’m finally let in, he catches me in my room or in the bathroom…again.
He is doing it…again. I can’t tell anyone. I run. I was brought home again to move. Only this time, I’m sent to Connecticut to live. I’m the problem. It’s my fault. I had to move. I wish I had a new family. To be continued…
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