With bloody wrists and tearing eyes,
Daddy took me by surprise.
I was writing to my mom,
when Daddy came and hit me some.
He took out his old steel-toed shoes,
and kicked my tummy till it was badly bruised.
He likes to hurt me when I am sad,
so I'll learn to be tough and not be so bad.
My teacher asked me why I didn't feel so well.
I just said, "My tummy hurts because I fell".
She lifted up my shirt to see how bad it was.
She was shocked when she saw all the bruises and cuts.
When I went home that day, Daddy was mad.
He yelled at me telling me I've been so bad.
He said I told the teacher that he was hurting me,
so the police were coming to question us, you see.
Daddy told me that if I said anything bad,
he would punish me with everything he had.
So I kept quiet when the police came to see,
but inside my head I was screaming, "Please help me!".
I never spoke a word to the police that day,
but Daddy was mad so he hurt me anyways.
My face was swollen. I had cuts everywhere.
My arms and legs were bruised. I was even missing hair.
I never went to school the next day.
I was planning my death. "I'm going to hell today".
But just as I was about to pull the trigger of Dad's gun,
Dad came home drunk so I started to run.
I ran as fast as I could go, out the back door,
but Daddy caught be quick and forced me to the floor.
He pulled up my skirt and took down my panties.
He said I was being bad and looked like a "sleaze".
Then Daddy's friends came over and unzipped their pants.
I had to suck on them. They didn't want to miss this chance.
Daddy was inside me with his private part.
I prayed they'd be done soon. But this was just the start.
One by one they took their turns, touching me inside.
They were laughing really hard. Especially when I cried.
Finally after they had all taken their turns, I put my clothes back on.
They said, "Thank-you little girl. We had alot of fun!"
So the next day I went to school, still hurting inside.
My teacher knew something was wrong when at home time, I started to cry.
She said I could stay with her until just after four,
I quickly agreed, hoping Daddy wouldn't do anymore.
I stayed with my teacher, but when I mentioned Daddy's friends,
she said, "Hunni, this isn't right. It really has to end."
She took me home that day and talked to Daddy outside.
When she started driving, I ran after, asking for a ride.
She cried and said she couldn't, and told me to stay strong.
She hugged me goodbye. I've never cried so long.
Daddy was at the door with hate in his eyes.
I knew this was the end. It was my time to die.
Daddy took his gun and held it to my head,
and in a matter of seconds, I lay dead.
On this tragic day three people died.
One by murder and two by suicide.
After my teacher left, she waited praying hard.
But after she heard the shot, she came running from afar.
She came in time to see Daddy put the gun to his head.
She saw us lying lifeless, so she took his gun and now lies dead.
Three deaths in one day in this house of pain.
My story was never told. I am so ashamed.
Pass this on to anyone, and look for the signs.
Look for the abused children, before anymore die.
