Handle With Care

• Tayla Wilson, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2018

It all seemed so fake, almost unreal. Confusion could be heard from a distance and fear could be smelt from miles away. She sat there in a corner with her legs bent up to her chest, her head rested and buried in between her knees as she held in her sobs.

The room was dark. No windows meant no light. All that came into view was the simple white bed that sprawled across the centre floor and the door which led to a bathroom. It seemed more of a room that held a prisoner than a room that she was supposed to call home.

Her mind was blank, besides the throbbing headache she now had. Her shattered heart yearned for freedom.

Confusion was knocking at the door, and her mind only raced with questions that surfaced the water of pity and allowed itself to gaze upon the darkness of unhappiness. Nothing made sense anymore. All she knew was that her father wanted nothing to do with her anymore. In her mind, it seemed that her father was out for blood, and she would be his victim.

She just wanted to leave. She was utterly and completely broken and drained. It was sad that her undoing was because of her mother and father. The people that were supposed to protect her, shelter her; they didn't care. All they cared about was drugs and money. The one thing that used to keep them happy had destroyed them.

Her mother left when she was 12. She had been abused for 5 years and was at the ripe age of 14 when her father seemed to think she was old enough to be sold for intercourse to pay for his fix. She was trafficked and beaten for never being good enough, for being the reason that her mother left.

In her mind the only thing that could get rid of the pain was death; she wanted to die. But the thought of someone finding her was too great, so she waited and waited. Then her father was arrested for drug possession.They found her curled up in the corner screaming for someone to find her. Defeated and alone.

She wanted to leave but she didn't want to go. This was her home, or as close to a home that she could get. She was broken and fragile. People around her were walking on eggshells trying not to trigger a panic attack or trigger a memory or something that was frightening to her. She couldn’t get to sleep at night and just like everyone else they abandoned her.

She had know where to go to, so they put her in a home, which was just as worse as the last. Her hope was long gone. So she did what she thought was right. She stood up for herself She didn't want to live being known as the coward who killed herself.