The Lonly Girl
A girl alone in the world. Why is this girl all alone? Where is her family? What happened to this girl?
My name is Anna. You are probably wondering why I’m alone. I have been alone for a long time. I have lived alone for even longer. I will tell you my story. It may change you life forever. I know my life will never be the same.
It has been two years since the day I ran away. I never looked back or thought about how much trouble I could get in. I just wanted to get away. I needed to find a way out. Out of what you may ask. A way out of being….
I was only ten when my mother died. I wish she was still alive. I hated her for so long, for leaving me all alone. Then maybe I would not be here telling you my story. Maybe I would not have gone through what happened to me.
My dad never told me why or how my mom died. But now I know after all the years of being alone with him. He killed my mom. I do not think it was on accident. If it was on accident then he would never have done anything to me.
The first time my dad touched me was after my mom’s funeral. It was a sad day. That night changed me forever. I was no longer a kid anymore. I could not act like a kid after my mom left me alone with him.
My dad did not cry when my mom died. But I remembering him cry when he touched me that night. I was lying in bed thinking about how much I missed my mom. He came in and lay next to me. I did not think much of it at the time. How could I, he was my dad. I just thought he was grieving and wanted to look at the only thing he has left in this world now that my moms gone.
I was wrong of course. My dad wanted to look at me because I looked like my mom in so many ways. I thought he was touching my face because I looked sad. But really he was touching my face for his own pleasure.
He ran his hand down my front and up my shirt saying, “I love you Teresa. You have come back to me. I love you. I’m sorry for hurting you.” Teresa was my mother. How could he think I was his wife, that’s now dead because of him?
I will never forget that night. I was so scared I did not cry. I did not move. I did not do anything. I just let him touch me, too young to know that what he was doing was wrong.
I grew up fast in those six years alone with my father. I lost my childhood memories. I lost my teen years. I was now in an adult world at a young age.
Thinking my dad still loved me was not easy even after that night. It feels so wrong to want him to love me but I do because he is still my dad.
It did not happen every night but at least two nights out of the week. He would come back again and again. Every night he would try different things. He was using me for his own pleasure because he had no one to satisfy his needs except for his daughter.
After about two years I got used my fathers call. He would even call me to his room. When I went to his room one night he said, “I got a toy for you this time.” I was so naïve that I was excited to receive the toy. I did not know that it was a bad toy.
I hated those toys. They hurt sometimes and were uncomfortable. But I never said no. I was too scared. I would just lay there and let my dad do what he wanted to do that night. While laying there I would sometimes think about my mom. I was wishing it to be over soon.
Some times is would go seek my father just because I wanted it. I feel so bad. I did not know it was wrong. I often wished I had no father.
I was almost fourteen when I found out that what my father was doing to me was wrong. I was watching TV waiting for my father to get home because this was going to be one of those nights that he would call for me. I just wanted it over with.
My dad opens the door and comes into the living room where I was sitting. He looks at the TV and takes the remote from me saying, “I never want you to watch TV again. It’s BAD.”
“Why,” I asked nervously. He said it was because the TV showed stuff just like what he did to me. He said it was just not right to share what we did with anyone. I wanted to run from him and scream. How could anyone want to hurt their own child like that?
That same night he did stuff to me that I will never forget. He called it naughty stuff so I would understand that if I told anyone it would be worse then that night. What kid could understand any of it?
I was not allowed to have friends over or go to any of my friends after my mom died. I had to go to school then come right home. My dad did not want me to accidentally say anything to anyone or ask questions. He was scared. He tried to hide me from the world.
He had already taken my virginity from me when I was 10. He never beat me but he said he was sorry he hurt me every time he was done. I did not believe him. It took me two more years to finally stand up for myself.
On my sixteenth birthday I was planning to run away. But first I wanted answers. So I waited with a knife in the kitchen for my dad to get home. He was early. I think it was just to get an early start on my birthday present. I bet by now you can imagine what it was.
When I herd the door click open and slam shut I knew I had to be ready. I could hear him walking to the kitchen from the front hall. I jumped out from around the corner and held the knife to his throat.
His breathing was heavy. He did not move. His eyes locked on mine. He said in a heavy voice, “What’s this all about dear?”
“I want to know how you killed my mom,” I was not going leave without answers. I needed to know. No I did not need to know, I wanted to know.
My dad was not the type to admit the things he had done. But that night I got the answers I wanted. He told me they got in a fight. He said he never meant to push her down the stairs. My dad told the cops that she was doing the laundry and fell with a basket full of dirty close and broke her neck.
Asking why he touched me the night of my mom’s funeral was hard. I had to know. He told me that the first night he touched me he never meant to again. My dad said that once you start something it’s hard to break the habit. Since he did not have my mom he was left with me to touch.
I got out of there as soon as I could. I got the stuff I needed. I told my dad that if he ever called the cops on me I would tell them what he did to me. I said I would write him so he knows I’m ok.
He never saw me again or touched me again. I was free. I was sixteen and running wild. The first place I went was my mom’s grave. I had to say goodbye. I promised her I would be safe and come and visit whenever I could.
Even though my mom was dead I could not tell her what happened. I just sat by her grave crying. I did not want to leave. I would have stayed in that grave yard forever if I was allowed. She was the only person I had left in this world.
With one last look at my mother’s grave I walked away and headed to an open road and kept walking. I walked for what seamed like hours. I had no idea where I was going to go. I had little money because my dad did not have that much on him when I left.
I took a bus to the major city from a small town where my dad lives. I sat on a park bench wondering what I would be doing the rest of my life. On the ground at my feet was a news paper. I decided that the first thing I would need was a job. Not a real job with a check but a cash paying job. I found the classifieds and there was a job that was cash paying.
When I called the number I got a man. I asked what the job was for and he said that he was a business man and wanted a maid/house keeper because he was gone all the time. I said I could do it but I had no place to stay. He said I could stay in the attic and do what I wanted with it.
The next two years passed by quickly. I still work for the business guy now named Jamie. Jamie was young and did not have the first idea about cleaning or taking care of himself. I took some online classes in those two years so I could get my G.E.D.
On my eighteenth birthday Jamie asked me to marry him. I was so shocked. I told him I wanted to go to college to be a writer. He said he would help finance my education.
So now here I am going to college and getting married. Jamie was the first person I told my story to. He said I should write about it because writing helps. And let me tell you, writing does help. Now I leave you for I have to live the rest of my life before I write about it.
By: Nathalie Miller
My name is Anna. You are probably wondering why I’m alone. I have been alone for a long time. I have lived alone for even longer. I will tell you my story. It may change you life forever. I know my life will never be the same.
It has been two years since the day I ran away. I never looked back or thought about how much trouble I could get in. I just wanted to get away. I needed to find a way out. Out of what you may ask. A way out of being….
I was only ten when my mother died. I wish she was still alive. I hated her for so long, for leaving me all alone. Then maybe I would not be here telling you my story. Maybe I would not have gone through what happened to me.
My dad never told me why or how my mom died. But now I know after all the years of being alone with him. He killed my mom. I do not think it was on accident. If it was on accident then he would never have done anything to me.
The first time my dad touched me was after my mom’s funeral. It was a sad day. That night changed me forever. I was no longer a kid anymore. I could not act like a kid after my mom left me alone with him.
My dad did not cry when my mom died. But I remembering him cry when he touched me that night. I was lying in bed thinking about how much I missed my mom. He came in and lay next to me. I did not think much of it at the time. How could I, he was my dad. I just thought he was grieving and wanted to look at the only thing he has left in this world now that my moms gone.
I was wrong of course. My dad wanted to look at me because I looked like my mom in so many ways. I thought he was touching my face because I looked sad. But really he was touching my face for his own pleasure.
He ran his hand down my front and up my shirt saying, “I love you Teresa. You have come back to me. I love you. I’m sorry for hurting you.” Teresa was my mother. How could he think I was his wife, that’s now dead because of him?
I will never forget that night. I was so scared I did not cry. I did not move. I did not do anything. I just let him touch me, too young to know that what he was doing was wrong.
I grew up fast in those six years alone with my father. I lost my childhood memories. I lost my teen years. I was now in an adult world at a young age.
Thinking my dad still loved me was not easy even after that night. It feels so wrong to want him to love me but I do because he is still my dad.
It did not happen every night but at least two nights out of the week. He would come back again and again. Every night he would try different things. He was using me for his own pleasure because he had no one to satisfy his needs except for his daughter.
After about two years I got used my fathers call. He would even call me to his room. When I went to his room one night he said, “I got a toy for you this time.” I was so naïve that I was excited to receive the toy. I did not know that it was a bad toy.
I hated those toys. They hurt sometimes and were uncomfortable. But I never said no. I was too scared. I would just lay there and let my dad do what he wanted to do that night. While laying there I would sometimes think about my mom. I was wishing it to be over soon.
Some times is would go seek my father just because I wanted it. I feel so bad. I did not know it was wrong. I often wished I had no father.
I was almost fourteen when I found out that what my father was doing to me was wrong. I was watching TV waiting for my father to get home because this was going to be one of those nights that he would call for me. I just wanted it over with.
My dad opens the door and comes into the living room where I was sitting. He looks at the TV and takes the remote from me saying, “I never want you to watch TV again. It’s BAD.”
“Why,” I asked nervously. He said it was because the TV showed stuff just like what he did to me. He said it was just not right to share what we did with anyone. I wanted to run from him and scream. How could anyone want to hurt their own child like that?
That same night he did stuff to me that I will never forget. He called it naughty stuff so I would understand that if I told anyone it would be worse then that night. What kid could understand any of it?
I was not allowed to have friends over or go to any of my friends after my mom died. I had to go to school then come right home. My dad did not want me to accidentally say anything to anyone or ask questions. He was scared. He tried to hide me from the world.
He had already taken my virginity from me when I was 10. He never beat me but he said he was sorry he hurt me every time he was done. I did not believe him. It took me two more years to finally stand up for myself.
On my sixteenth birthday I was planning to run away. But first I wanted answers. So I waited with a knife in the kitchen for my dad to get home. He was early. I think it was just to get an early start on my birthday present. I bet by now you can imagine what it was.
When I herd the door click open and slam shut I knew I had to be ready. I could hear him walking to the kitchen from the front hall. I jumped out from around the corner and held the knife to his throat.
His breathing was heavy. He did not move. His eyes locked on mine. He said in a heavy voice, “What’s this all about dear?”
“I want to know how you killed my mom,” I was not going leave without answers. I needed to know. No I did not need to know, I wanted to know.
My dad was not the type to admit the things he had done. But that night I got the answers I wanted. He told me they got in a fight. He said he never meant to push her down the stairs. My dad told the cops that she was doing the laundry and fell with a basket full of dirty close and broke her neck.
Asking why he touched me the night of my mom’s funeral was hard. I had to know. He told me that the first night he touched me he never meant to again. My dad said that once you start something it’s hard to break the habit. Since he did not have my mom he was left with me to touch.
I got out of there as soon as I could. I got the stuff I needed. I told my dad that if he ever called the cops on me I would tell them what he did to me. I said I would write him so he knows I’m ok.
He never saw me again or touched me again. I was free. I was sixteen and running wild. The first place I went was my mom’s grave. I had to say goodbye. I promised her I would be safe and come and visit whenever I could.
Even though my mom was dead I could not tell her what happened. I just sat by her grave crying. I did not want to leave. I would have stayed in that grave yard forever if I was allowed. She was the only person I had left in this world.
With one last look at my mother’s grave I walked away and headed to an open road and kept walking. I walked for what seamed like hours. I had no idea where I was going to go. I had little money because my dad did not have that much on him when I left.
I took a bus to the major city from a small town where my dad lives. I sat on a park bench wondering what I would be doing the rest of my life. On the ground at my feet was a news paper. I decided that the first thing I would need was a job. Not a real job with a check but a cash paying job. I found the classifieds and there was a job that was cash paying.
When I called the number I got a man. I asked what the job was for and he said that he was a business man and wanted a maid/house keeper because he was gone all the time. I said I could do it but I had no place to stay. He said I could stay in the attic and do what I wanted with it.
The next two years passed by quickly. I still work for the business guy now named Jamie. Jamie was young and did not have the first idea about cleaning or taking care of himself. I took some online classes in those two years so I could get my G.E.D.
On my eighteenth birthday Jamie asked me to marry him. I was so shocked. I told him I wanted to go to college to be a writer. He said he would help finance my education.
So now here I am going to college and getting married. Jamie was the first person I told my story to. He said I should write about it because writing helps. And let me tell you, writing does help. Now I leave you for I have to live the rest of my life before I write about it.
By: Nathalie Miller
posted by nat @ 7:58 AM
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