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hippppoo101

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I hear them. They’re calling my name, looking for their “little fuck”. that’s what they call me, their little fuck. It hurts thinking about it. I can still hear them. Their yelling in that sweet we wont hurt you voice, even though you know they will you still have that feeling of running to them, but I’m smarter then that, I know that they will do. I stop typing as they come closer not wanting them to hear the clicking of my typewriter. *Allison* they call *come out my little fuck, we wont hurt you*.

I hear the stairs creek as they come down, very slowly, thinking I wont hear them. But they’re wrong, they’re always wrong. I move closer to the back of my triangle shaped closet under the stairs as I hear the clicking and tapping of shoes on the uncarpeted, rock hard floor. Grabbing a unused brick I carry on me at all times, for when they find me. I always put up a fight, even though its no use, they always win.

*Come out my little fuck*. They’re still calling me, it hurts to hear someone call me they’re “little fuck”. I hate being called that. At least they’re not smearing my good name Kayla. At least that names still good. Allison is a dead name to me now. It’s the name they know, the name they smear, they name they say in vain. Well let them smear that name in vain, it’s a useless name to me now anyways. Kayla is my name and always will be from now on and forever.

They haven’t found me yet, they’re still looking. I hear them getting closer to the door. Breathing very hard, he’s probably the fat one. Jim I think his name is, he doesn’t use me for his sexual advances. He just finds me for the other to use.

I remember back when they first did it to me. I was 8. I was just sitting in my room reading misery by Steven King and Jim came in. he knock on my door. Back then I didn’t lock it. But I told him to come in and he did. He sat down on my bed and asked *Allison, would you like to come downstairs for some fun?* I didn’t know better then, but now I do and I wouldn’t go with him for some “fun” if my life depended on it now. But I said yes and he took me downstairs where they were all waiting and my mom sat me down on the couch and told me that if I didn’t behave and do everything they told me to do and if I didn’t let them do anything they wanted. She would burn all my books and lock me in my room for the rest of my life with nothing but a bed.

Heck now I’d burn my books just to keep warm. I trade in everything in my life just for some reassurance that I wouldn’t have to go through that pain again every other night. I’d burn down this whole world just so I could feel safe like I used to before that night when I was 8. I’m 15 now and I’m stuck here for 2 more years. My 16^th birthday is in a few days. But birthdays don’t mean anything for me anymore. I used to think they’d leave me alone just for my birthday but I was wrong.