Why can’t God just talk to me? Why can’t we just work things out and come to an agreement. Something that will make me actually enjoy the life I have. Obviously he doesn’t want what I want; clearly happiness isn’t in his plan. I’m trying to fit it into mine. I come home, fighting, blood tears and more fighting. I’m hiding. I know that he won’t hit me but I hide hoping that the darkness of my closet will swallow the foul words that peel off his too-dry lips. Abusive is too nice a word to describe him. It makes him seem like he has a reason for his hate toward her, he doesn’t. I asked him. He just does it cause she’ll take it. We all know she will. But I won’t. Sometimes I leave the house for days. Bumming drinks off of strangers, anything thing that can take me away from this typical Lifetime Movie lifestyle. I hated those movies; they give people like me false hope. Hope that one day our moms will grow a pair and stand up for what’s right. That’s a d*** lie. Unlike the poor abused heartbroken daughters in those movies who are motivated to do well, to get out of poverty. I’m not. Because quite frankly I don’t think the state realizes that the Ethos Pathos and Logos of The Catcher in the Rye is the last thing I want to know about when I don’t know if I’ll make it to tomorrow. I’m walking down these streets they’re so full and loud and alive, but me? I’m the complete opposite I’m calm quiet, trying to hide behind the noise I’m always hiding behind something. I just passed a chronic Christian commonly known as the person passing out bibles on the street corner, the ones that act like they drop dead then and there if you don’t tell them about your life, a real bible thumper. I ignored her, I always do. I went to my usual spot, my bush right behind the freeway. I laid down and I slept. Yes, sleep. It’s the only way I can disengage without dying, which doesn’t sound so bad until I think about how I’ll probably end up in hell cause I curse so much. Hell is hot, and heat makes my hair frizz. I finally dose off and when I do its amazing, why? Because I didn’t dream, I didn’t remember anything. Except for the fact that I left mom alone with the monster who believes that he is the messiah coming to save our family like Jesus did the world. If Jesus saved the world then why are bad things happening all around. I’m not a particularly nice person. But I don’t believe that I deserve the life that was chucked at me; then again life’s not fair right? I wake up to a truck honking. Time for me to find another spot. I cant find anyone to buy me drinks or drugs and I’m itching for anything that’ll make me forget who I am and where I come from. I think people don’t want to buy me stuff cause they know my story before I even take a chance to say my name. Its obvious, I wear my hatred, my anger and sorrow like a necklace; big, flamboyant, there for everyone to see and judge. I cant get my mind off my mom. Sometimes I have a feeling she’s dead but when I get home she’s barely there, face bloated and body swollen, those are the times I wish she was dead. I think she wishes she was too. I run home scared of the fact that she’ll go without me but on my way, I met the most beautiful eyes id ever seen, a deep brown almost black like black onyx. I had to stop I didn’t want to but something told me to kick down the wall I had built up since my first breath “hey”... he didnit shoot me down like some bum. “Hey beautiful” he replied. My heart was ripping through my chest at this point, bouncing off my rips trying to escape, trying to leave me behind. I’d only heard the word beautiful on TV. and when people talked about jewelry, ever near me. Never to me.
“Would you like to go into this store with me?”
I nodded. I couldn’t say anything; I was in too much shock. We walked into the store and he bought me a juice and a bag of chips, my first meal in two days, I knew he could tell.
“You know I have a nice place to rest and get cleaned up, you should come with me”
I stayed silent, nodding continually until he turned to the door. I was being treated like a real person. He was unusually nice, but it didn’t matter to me. Maybe it would be like pretty woman and he fix me up, make me that girl that everyone would be envious of, We got in his car. It was the nicest car I’ve ever been in the ride was smooth. He asked my name “Jane” I whispered.
“Well Jane” he said, “I hope no one ever calls you plane Jane, cause your to pretty for that” I giggled. I forgot how my voice sounded when I laughed. It had been so long, it felt good to laugh. He told me his name was Charles, he was an accountant and he lived alone. His voice was steady I knew he was being honest, but a part of me wondered why he was being so nice… why he cared about a random girl running on the streets, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me and I hadn’t even been an hour.

We arrived at his house and I felt like this was a joke. It was like a Hollywood mansion or what I would expect one to look like he opened my door and lead me to the door way. It was like nothing id ever seen obviously, it was clean and everything was white, it just made me feel dirtier.
“The shower is upstairs, I have extra clothes if you need them” his voice startled me, I managed to choke out an “okay, thanks” and I scurried upstairs. I hopped into the granite shower; this was good to be true. I hadn’t taken a shower in days, he never paied the water bill. We were like animals in there using bottles of stale water to “freshen up” that’s what he called it. I hopped out of the shower and put on the clothes he gave me, cotton t-shirt and a pair of jeans, they fit just right. Charles took me downstairs and when we got to the bottom of the stairs there was a group of about 20men, my head was whirling. He told me he lived alone.
“Theses are my friends he told me; I told them all about you. They’ve been dying to meet you.” I began to feel nervous, my stomach dropped to my but. The feeling that something major is going to happen overwhelmed me. My palms became sweaty and I felt like every second was an hour. “How did they know about me already” I was surprised by my bold question, as was he. “Jane he told me, we don’t like watching you sleep in the push, its not safe” I froze. I didn’t know what to say or do; they had been watching my every move. Playing god with my life. “We want to help you, we love you Jane” my mouth was too dry to say anything “they moved toward me closing in like vultures circling their prey. He began to touch my hair, my skin and tell me that I was to be their queen. “No!” I screamed “let me go, let me go” he smiled like he was pleased with my cry “but we have let you go Jane. We set you free from the horrible life you lived”. Suddenly they all pulled out red robes; I have no idea where they came from. They just… appeared. I started panicking. I feel so stupid for thinking that love had caught me at first sight for Charles, for getting I a car with a stranger. For thinking that my life was to get any better, I am a fool. He walked over, slow and steady, his lackeys didn’t move, like they knew that I wasn’t going to move. I was too scared, so I didn’t. He sniffed my hair, it was like a creepy horror movie I couldn’t help but giggle and how he was probably disappointed about the smell of my hair, it hadn’t been washed in days. My mind felt like marshmallow fluff. I thought I theses situations brought out sharp instincts and supernatural powers that the victim never knew they had. But I felt slow and lazy, like my blood was thick and taking its sweet time to get to my brain, my heart. Something was telling me that I was going to die today, and part of that was okay with me.