After Michelle's mom dies her dad goes into a depression for years. But when he comes out of it will everyone wish he didn't? When her nightmares get worse is there anything she can do to stop her fathers rage? Will her siblings believe her or leave her, she must find the truest form of life before hers is swept away like so many before her. Life is a puzzle.


8. A Silent Plea

I awoke when a heavy hand grabbed my arm and I was shocked into silence. A hand was wrapped around my mouth mouth and I was dragged out of bed and down two sets of stairs into the basement. Tears mounted in my eyes as I bumped down the stairs, the carpet gave me rug burn after it had pulled off my loose pants. In the basement I was thrown against a wall. My head made a thunk as it bashed against the wall. Every part of me throbbed, I shrunk down to the floor.

My father duct taped my mouth and taped me standing up to a pole. I saw him get out a tiny bottle of something he pried my hand open and poured it on, he then put my other hand on top of it with the pole in between my arms and smashed my hands together so I couldn't move either. When he let my hands go I realized, it was a bottle of super glue. He untapped me and backed away. I was standing in nothing but my night cami and underwear.

"Now you can't go snooping in nobodies things!" He said with a sadistic grin and walked away.

I slumped down against the pole, my mouth was still duct taped so I couldn't cry out for help. There were probably many things I should have done but I was too busy making sure I didn't cry. The glue had already hardened and it was painful to try and pull my hands apart. I wished nothing more than to have someone there to cry with me, to cry for me, even just to stand there. My mind cried out for Derek, the only person who had always been there for me, no matter what it cost for him. My mind called out for Johnny, but I tried to withhold those feelings, both of them would overreact. Johnny would sit there and cry because he had let me walk away earlier, but Derek would be way worse. He would hunt down Dad and beat the crap out of him. A telephone lays close to me and if I could only reach it; but what good would that do calling the cops would lead to our separation, calling Diego or Billy would only end in embarrassment.

I was utterly alone in the world. I thought , Mom, why did you have to go, then with all the power I had in my arms I began to tear my hands apart. I got about halfway when my hands started to bleed so I worked the other way finally separating them. I stood and stumbled up the steps all the way to my room leaving blood on my door handle, but this time locking the door. I tumbled into bed, wrapping my hands in Kleenex; still not allowing myself to cry. Eventually I fell asleep after nursing my hands for an hour or two.

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