I've never seen myself as beautiful. Only because I don't know anyone who would be willing to lie to me. I'm mostly skin and bones. Not that I can't eat, but I can't eat. I mean it. Foods off limits for me unless it's given. My Mother's food is drugs. Dad's food is alcohol...and drugs.
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Been this way since I was 8. Having a terrible family from age 8 can sure do a lot for you. Especially entering your first year of highschool at 15. I'm not excited. Highschool equals more bullies and more bullies equals suicide. Not that I would....
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Anyways. I'm currently in my backyard with my dog. He's a Great Dane. He's a black one with a brown nose. Really cute by the way.
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He's 2 and a huge scared cat. Scared of everything. Including my Dad....like me. He's my only friend. I love him. I'm playing catch with him. Throwing his favorite tennis ball in the yard, only for him to bring it back 5 seconds later and I have to throw it again.
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Yes. My arm aches from doing this, but it's worth it for him. "Get your ass in here and make us some food." I sigh. That was my Dad. Typical. It's already 6 o'clock. Dad and Mom demand dinner around this time. Always. Every day.
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I go inside. "Let's go Buddy." Yes. His name is Buddy, because he's my only buddy. I go inside and start cooking. I make some grilled cheese sandwiches. Basic, but I'm too tired to give a damn or make anything else really. I make myself one first and sneak half of it to Buddy and eat the rest of it myself in the pantry.
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Dad and Mom are both passed out on the couch anyways. I make them both sandwiches, and grab a bag of potato chips and take it to the couch. "Here." Dad takes it. Mom threw it on the floor and snatched the chips. I shrug. Buddy runs over and eats it. I smile. Good dog. I then go downstairs to my "room."
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If you can even call it a room. It's the basement. More like I was kidnapped and this is where I'm being held. An old run down mattress on the floor in the corner with one blanket over it. It's always freezing down here. A bowl for Buddy's food which I can barely afford, and one picture of the three of us before everything changed.
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The only reason I've kept that picture is because Buddy's in it, on my lap, just born. Cute little guy. Still is. I whistle and Buddy comes running down the stairs. I go close the door. I then lay down on my "bed" and look at my phone. First time I've looked all day.
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My schedule for school tomorrow is finally posted. I sigh. Only reason I bother going is to escape this hell. If I didn't go the police would come and you might think that's the easiest way out, but then I would have to go to an orphanage and lose Buddy. So no. I'll suffer until I'm 18.
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I have 8 classes a day. Well, one of them, the last hour of the day is homeroom. I liked it in middle school. I had nothing to do so I just caught up on sleep. That's hard to get during the school year and working two jobs.
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I sigh and plug in my phone and curl up under my blanket. Buddy lays down with his head on my chest. "You're a good dog Buddy. Good boy. Goodnight." His tail wags slightly.
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We both fall asleep.
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