Wanted

Ever feel so alone your heart skipped beats? Ever feel so declined that your brain freezes on a bad memory? Ever felt the need to be wanted? Well I have.

Being an orphan in today’s society is generally an easy thing to cope with, however for me that isn't the case. Every day is a struggle both emotionally and physically.

The walk to school is a devastating storm of stones. Raining down on me. They find it funny. Hilarious. A joke.
They laugh and smirk and cackle like a group of wild geese.
By the time I get to school, crimson blood is drizzling through the creases in my skin.
The bruises have formed on top of my stained skin, as black as the devil's heart.

The teachers ask if I’m ok, but the answer will never leave my innocent lips. They can see though. They can see I'm hurting, I'm broken, I'm lost, but they can't help.

This is just the beginning though.

I live at a housing commission home, with my adoptive family of misfits. Three of us kids are adopted. I’m the oldest. Lucie and Matt are twins, but they are lucky. Lucky to be the right colour. Lucky to fit in. Lucky to be free. How is it possible in today's world that a black girl like me, can't be accepted? Isn't racism meant to be extinct in this ridiculously 'perfect' world?
Apparently not.

My adoptive dad spends his days drinking rum and coke. I wish he didn't. If he didn't maybe life at home wouldn't be so bad. Nights are the worst.
I lay in bed with my eyes on the door, watching and waiting. His drunken voice gets closer and closer, I can hear him sipping his bottle. Fear rises to my throat. It’s like swallowing a ball of flames. Sweat drips off my thin, dark brows. Waiting. Tonight’s the night it will go too far.
With a terrifying crash his old, harsh body bursts into my room. The blankets act as a force field. My only hope of protection. I ask myself why did I bother. The blanket is torn away from me. I let a chilling scream escape my mouth; my arms are flapping around in an attempt to save myself from this evil.
“Be still.” He whispers in my ear as he holds my hands down and binds them to the posts of my bed.
My screams are wasted as he forces it on me.
Tears stream down my face as if I had been a river.
Pain shoots through my body, knives stabbing, never missing an inch of bare skin.
Relief overcomes me as it comes to an end, but my tears carry on to fill an ocean.
Long after it has ended, fear comes back into the pit of my stomach. He will be back now. And I will never escape.
All I want is to be free. To stop this everlasting nightmare. I want to be wanted and to have love in my life.
But this will never happen. As the insufferable reality of my life will never, ever come to an end.

By Rachelle Whytcross

























































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