Weeks have passed and dad still brought me to the friendly lady. I would spend my whole day looking through the window or watching television. While they were talking in the bedroom or was it really talking?...

I don't know, nobody knows but them. I kept my mouth shut. After all, I found a friend in that place. The lady had a daughter about my age but the difference was she was street smart. She learned to fend for herself. She would do her classmate's homework for food or extra allowance. I was amazed, what kind of people are they? They looked so cool. How I wish I could experience that. But with curiosity comes consequences and I learned that the hard way.

Dad and the friendly lady had a mobile phone that was exclusive only for them to use, like a walkie talkie. Cool right? Dad would hide it beneath his clothes for mom not to see. Or did she really not see? Or just decided to ignore it?

One day the phone was ringing nonstop and dad wasn't home while mom was busy with her paperwork. I decided to check it and saw a man's name? I was puzzled so I snoop around more and I saw that the phone had the name of the lady. Does that mean that they accidentally switched phones? Or SIM cards? I decided maybe it would be the second one. So I removed the SIM card from the phone and kept it. When dad brings me along I will give it to the lady again. That's the right thing to do, right? Be honest and return what isn't yours.

So the time came and I returned the SIM card. She thanked me and I felt like I did the right thing. I was proud of myself because mom always taught me to be good. But what happened next made me regret my judgment.

●●●●●●

It was a Wednesday afternoon, dad picked me up from school, mom wasn't home till late that night. When I got inside the vehicle dad was quiet. The whole ride home was uncomfortably quiet. When I got out and was changing my clothes dad entered the room. His eyes were red, was he mad? Why? I wasn't able to react when he punched me in the stomach then took me by the ears and slammed my head repeatedly until the clothes hook that was screwed by the wooden door broke. My head was pounding and I began to cry but he didn't listen. He continuously beat me up. He became angrier when I cry and dodged his beatings. He said I shouldn't move. So I just stood still and try my best not to cry or make a sound.

I didn't know how long it took but after he grew tired I just sat there, on the floor. I can barely move. My legs and arms were red with purplish bruises, I can't open my left eye, my cheekbones were hurting. I can't feel my body.

Ahhh! Yes, I forgot dad always beat me up. The reason why it was okay for us if he's not home is that when he is with us, he is the living proof of a walking nightmare.

You can't sleep peacefully because when he is around, and if he gets mad he will just raise a hand on anyone, me or my mom. Whenever mom would defend me he would be furious. They would end up in a fight. I saw how my mother took his beatings. Seldom was the time she would fight back. Why? I don't know, I don't fully understand. All she ever says was she loved dad. She would take it all for me.

Is this love? Is this how it should be? What did I do wrong? I thought I was just doing the right thing? Was I not your child? Should I deserve this? Am I a bad girl?

(Author's note: I'm sorry if it took long to update. Every word and every emotion I put to this story is heartfelt. I would like to thank all of my readers in every form. Please don't forget to vote and comment. Thank you)

I purple you 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜