Living With Ava

Ava was the normal angelic daughter until her after 5th birthday. Join Ava as she tells your the story of her journey through her life of success and mass destruction.


1. The Beginning

          It all started on a Sunday morning after church. My church members would always meet together after service at a Mr.Arthur’s house, who happens to be his father. His name is Dylan, my first “boyfriend”. My name is Ava Long and I was five years old. This is the day my whole life changed.


“All kids go play in the balcony upstairs”, yelled my mom.


          As I was playing with the buzz light year toy that talked to me, I heard a sound. I didn’t pay it any mind since it didn’t occur again but then I heard my crush, which just happened to be my boyfriend’s brother Jermaine say, “Psst Ava come here”. I was hesitant at first but I got up and walked his way. Once I entered the room I felt arms pull me to the floor. As I openned my eyes I felt the person’s arms still around me. Someone whispered in my ear, “Say you love me”. I knew it was Dylan from his voice but he was strong and I couldn’t get out of his hold.


“Dylan can you let me go?”

“Not until you tell me what I want to hear.”

“Okay, Okay I love you”.


          I lied I didn’t even know what love was. That’s when he dragged me into the closet. “Jermaine help me!” I yelled but he just looked at me in horror. Next thing I knew Dylan had pulled down my underwear and was on top of me. I felt a jabbing pain between my legs, making me cry out in pain. This torture went on for what felt like years before someone pulled the door open, it was my mother. “Ava what is going on!” I was too paralyzed with fear to say anything. I was dragged out of the room and down stairs. Dylan’s Dad dragged him to a different room down the hallway, and all I heard were screams of torture. “You are going to get it when you get home Ava.” My mom told me. Yet did she know I would never be her little girl again.


        Once we made it home my dad told me to grab the couch. I did. He began to whoop me a pop every time I said, “I didn’t know what Dylan was doing.” or “I couldn’t move” I was added ten more pops. Finally, after two hours the beating was over. I was sitting in my room as my mom explained that I should never be caught in a room alone with a boy again or else. I didn’t want to know what the “else” was. For months I never saw Dylan, and I was happy to be honest. The further away from him I was the more time for me to think.


A week has passed.


 “Mom can I ride my bike?”

“Go ahead Ava just be back in by 7.”


         I hopped onto my bike. It was blue with pink lightning bolts. There was a basket on the front that I kept my dog Winston in but he passed away a few months ago and so did the basket. I began to pedal down the street. “A couple of times around my block won't hurt for a warm up.” I thought to myself. Tears began to fill my eyes and I could not control them. “I can't see”, I screamed but no one could hear me. I let go of my handle bars to wipe my eyes before I could regain control my tire hit the curb and everything went black.

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