shema'+story+2

I was born to a family that has no heart for anybody. Meaning that my family is a family who cares for no one but themselves. They don't make me go to school but I go because I need the education to make it out someday. I’m a twelve year old girl that has a body figure of an adult as my father would say it. My name is Jada and I’ve been rape plenty of times by my father who killed my mother two years ago. Although my mother and I wasn’t really that close, I stilled had a struggle with life after she died. After the death of my mother, a couple of years later, I was raped by my father a lot and beaten. I was ten years old when she was murdered. No one really knows what really happened to her because she was really sick which made things easy to believe. She was always beaten by my father which is how he murdered her. While I’m hiding in the closet, crying and sobbing, he made me be quiet while he call the police and told them he found her dead. When the police arrived, he told them when he walked in conversating with her, she never replied. Which was a big lie by the way. As the police questioned him, he began to cry which shocked the crap out of me. The police then asked about the bruises on her face. He told them that she had a bad disease and really bad sugar which caused the sores. They asked my father if they could check our house for any information and he told them yeah. Finding me in the closet, they helped me out and asked if they could ask me any questions. Without thinking, I told them yeah which caused my father to give me this really mean look. I only knew my mother for a short period of time. She was killed by my father when I was only ten years old. That done me no good. My father is a drunk and doesn’t care for no one but his stupid little girlfriend whom he beats almost every second. She was so dumb that she never got the thought in her head to leave him. She didn’t have to anyways because sooner than later, he threw her out. When I came home from school to see her leaving with her things and what it looks like to me, a knot on the top of her head, I had already knew. A couple of months after he threw her out, I guess he got bored because he had no one to beat on so he made me his victim. My first time being beat on by my father was three months after he threw his girlfriend out and two years after the murder of my mother. He was an outrageous drunk. Lying in my bed, asleep with no thought of getting up, I could feel this shadow standing over me and this heavy breathing. To scared to move an eye, I just turned away from the shadow just an inch. Pretending to be in this horrible dream, I started kicking and whispering in this low voice, "help, help. Please don't hurt me!" Thinking that was going to help, I got louder but it only made things worse. When I was grabbed round the neck, I could assume it was my father because I know the rough feeling of his hand and this was the same exact way he murdered my mother. I grabbed his hands quickly, holding on to them as tight as I can yelling for him to stop. Telling him all what I think he wanted to hear, he told me to hush or he would bring back some remembrance of my mother's death. Crying and screaming, I told him sorry and not to kill me. He promised me he wouldn't because I was all that he had left. He then asked me was I going to always be there for him. Not wanting to say what I was thinking, I said I guess and he slapped me down into the pillow. I asked him in a low crying voice, what did I do wrong. With an evil look, he said that I should never guess anything that I had to always know for sure cause there’s no telling what he could do to me. Thinking in my head, what kind of father would tell his only little girl that, I had to remind myself the type of man he was which made me less thoughtful because I was use to it. He finally took his hands from around my neck and left the room. Gasping for air, I cried to myself and asked God why me. Without a reply, I just left it alone. An hour later, I decided to take a quick shower, eat breakfast and head to the grocery store. My father was gone so i had nothing to worry about as long as I got back before he did. At the grocery store, this young man who looked about twenty noticed the bruise around my neck and he approached me. Not knowing whether to walk off or tell him hey I just stood there. He asked about my neck saying that he couldn't help but noticed. I told him that my sister and I were playing and she got a little out of control. He chuckled a little and told me I ought not to play with her anymore. After a minute of silence he told me that his name was Roger. I replied, saying that was a cute name and I told him that my mama name me Jada but when she died, my father started calling me Sasha. He said sorry to hear that and asked me why did my father change my name. Lying, I told him that my father said that my name reminded him to much of mother and he couldn't live another day with the thought of my mom in his head.