The boy just stayed there, didn’t even try to grab the note and pencil and gave me some explanation. Damn him! I couldn’t believe it.

“You really such a stubborn boy! Let me tell you something, boy. If you are going to live with me then tell me all about your ing life, now! I couldn’t get myself into troubles just because of you, boy. So tell me your life or I could just leave you there, by that ugly guy.” When I mentioned ‘’ word he began shaking badly. Then it clicked.

“You’ve been before?” I softened my tones. He looked down. I grabbed the notes and pencil then shoved it to his face.

“Tell me EVERY ING THING!” I growled. This was getting frustrating. He hesitantly grabbed it then began writing. I knew I was such an . He was scared, yet I forced him to write the bad memories of him. But I couldn’t care less. I couldn’t risk myself. What if he was a son of a cop? Or maybe he was an enemy of mine? I knew it was kinda late to ask him now, but I guess he was a troubled kid that was already broken. I took a peek on the notes, and he did write pretty long stories.

“Are you not done yet?” I rolled my eyes. Waiting was the most thing I hated, but that was exactly what I was doing right now; waiting for him to finish writing. He looked up on me then shoved the notes to me. I began reading it.

If you asked me that, I’d answer ‘yes’. I was by my father (step-father actually) countless times. The first time he me was when I just a 10 years old kid, that was 7 years ago. That time, my mother (my birth mother) was out of town because she had work and she left me alone with him. I thought it would end for one night only, but I was totally wrong. He kept coming to my room every night, even though my mom was in home. He always got perfect reasons to visit my room. Of course my mom didn’t suspect anything, while I could do nothing. I’m mute remember? At first it was just , but then he began abusing me. He beat the out of me. I bet you saw the wounds, right? But I guess you haven’t seen the