My name is Eva Oliver. I am twenty three years old. I was born September 23, 1991. I lived in a small town. My mom, father, and my little brother, Ian. Everything was great! But, of course, it didn't last long. When I was ten years old, my father lost his job, and he was so upset. He started drinking alcohol. That, is of course, when I started getting abused. My mom was never home. She always had to work. I would hide my brother and make an excuse. Such as he had practice. Easy to do on a drunk person. I would go to school with bruises, the occasional broken arm or leg. I would be forced to wear sweat pants and sweat shirts, but it wasn't that bad. It was pretty comfortable, when my bruises weren't aching. I knew my father was having an affair. I fallowed him one night. I will forever have a scar. In my mind, I mean. But, one day, my dad had a little to much to drink, even more then normal. He stumbled into my bedroom, complaining.
" Whats wrong with you? Your fat and lazy! Worthless! I want you out! You don't deserve to be here!" he screamed. I locked Ian in his room already, so he was safe, for now.
" Dad, its me! Eva! Your only daughter!" I said, as calmly as I could.
" I don't care who you are! Get out!" he screamed. I sat there and stared at him. He would usually just stumble out, but not this time. He had an empty, broken beer bottle in one hand, and a half full one in the other. He took a sip out of the half full beer bottle, and held up the other bottle over his head.
" I said, GET OUT!" He screamed with all the air he had in his lungs. I sat there, astonished. Why is this time different from any other. Then I knew. I remembered about two days before. Mom and father were arguing. I remember the one word I heard clearly.
My mom and father were getting a divorce. Most would mind. But I just... I don't like using the word hate. Um..... I just dis-like him that much. Then, the most unbelievable thing happened. He pulled the beer bottle even further back, aimed, and threw it. I ended up looking down, and saw the bottle. In my chest. I saw large, sharp, shards of glass in my chest. I saw the blood dripping from my new, fresh wound. I then looked up at my father, then, everything went black. About an hour later, I was found. My father was taken into custody. I woke up the next day with a massive head ache, needles in my arms, my vision was blurry, ect. I remember that day like it was yesterday. That was my first brick wall. My father was convicted, and he was sent to prison for a total of ten years. My mother went into a deep depression, hardly able to do anything. I had to do about everything when that happened. I had to cook, clean, tuck in Ian at night, so on. It was hard. I had to grow up quickly. I hit my next brick wall when I was thirteen years old. I grew quite close to my brother when my mother was in her depression. We did everything together. But, when I was thirteen, and he was eight, we found out that Ian had a brain tumor. A pretty bad one. We did the best we could, but it wasn't enough.
" I'm really sorry Mrs. Oliver. Ian didn't make it," the doctor said. I remember that sentence, and I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't have to. I remember feeling miserable, wanting to just go to sleep and never wake up. And to make things worse, my mom was suicidal. After losing my little brother, and my dad going to jail for attempted murder, she had enough. She tried to commit suicide, but luckily I was there. She tried to overdose in medication, but I called the hospital, and she was taken away. I was then left with social services. I was put with a foster family as my mom was trying to deal with her problems and she then went to therapy. I didn't get to see her. I started becoming depressed. I was actually surprised I didn't become depressed before. And, at school my few friends kept away from me, I was bullied even more, and even the teachers would just give me a glare. The bulling would become so bad, that it got physical. I would get beaten up, and then I would go to my foster parent's home, and cry my self to sleep. It was like that for about two years. In high school, when I was fifteen, I made my first friend, in a long time. Her name was Carly. She was trying her best to be friendly, and it took a while, but I began to trust her. And, finally, my mom was getting better. I was able to go back home. I even met a guy. His name was David. We fell instantly in love, or at least I thought. We were together for about a year and a half. But then, he started cheating on me. It didn't take long for me to find out. I became so mad, that the morning after I found out, I went to school, ran out of my car, through the school's parking lot, to his car. I went up straight to him, and I slapped him, pretty hard, I might add. It took him a second to realize what happened, and it didn't take long for him to get angry. He slapped me back. He then pulled me by my hair to the ground, and he started kicking me, then he got on his knees and he would punch me. After several minutes of enduring all of that, one of the teachers ran out and pulled him off of me. I didn't go back to school for a week. I came back with a broken leg, broken nose, and a fractured bone. During the week I was out, I sent him a text.
'We are done'
It took him half a second to respond.
I was disgusted. I didn't talk to him after that. A few years passed, nothing bad happened, which surprised me. Then, when I was nineteen, I got a call.
" Miss. Oliver?" the man said on the other side of the phone.
" Yes?" I asked.
" This is the police. We are afraid we have bad news," he said.
" What kind of bad news?" I asked.
" We are sad to inform you that Carly Harriet died in a car crash this afternoon. She was killed instantly." That was all I heard. My eyes started to water, but I held it in for the rest of the phone call. When the phone call ended, I bursted out in tears. I ran out of the house to get fresh air, but I didn't stop running. I ran down the street and past the school. I stopped when I had no air in my lungs, gasping, crying, not really understanding what was going on, but then, I hit the worst brick wall. Who do I see walking down the street towards me? David. He smiled, but not a regular smile, but an evil smile. He walked over, and stood there and stared at me. His breath smelled like alcohol! That's illegal! He then grabbed my arm and pulled me closer.
" Hello beautiful! Why don't you come with me?" he said. That is all I remember from the conversation, which I guess is a good thing, but I remember him pulling me against him and he kissed me. He than pulled me, against my will, and into his disgusting one room apartment. He then raped me. Yep. You heard me right. I manged to escape the next day, and I had to escape this little town. I ran home, up the stairs and cried. I cried for hours, and then, I started packing. I needed to forget this life and I needed to start new. I needed a better life! I packed my things, but my bags in the car, and I drove off with out a word. I am now twenty three years old. I live in a nice home, with several friends, I have a job I enjoy, and I finally have a better life. After enduring hell for many years, I finally escaped. Finally.