When I was a little girl, I always tried to be perfect. I did everything I was told, I got good grades, I tried. But when I turned sixteen everything became a blur. High school was hard, I couldn’t really talk to anyone and I was always scared. I was bullied, pushed around and called names, my grades were s*** and my mom was almost never home. One day I had enough of being called fat, I stopped eating, when I did I always threw it back up. One day my cousin (who is extremely pretty by the way) walked in and saw me on the floor, slit wrists, pills on the floor, head in the toilet. She called 911, and ran to me. She put my body on her lap and stuck her fingers down my throat, to make me throw up. She kept crying and asking me why I tried to kill myself, I lost consciousness when the paramedics entered the bathroom.

Three days later I woke up from my medically induced coma. I was tired and still sluggish, my parents weren’t in the room, but my cousin, and equally as pretty sister was. They just looked at me like I was crazy; they didn’t say anything about it though. Later the doctor came in the room and said that I had to stay here for a couple more days on suicide watch.
Six days later I was released with a major medical bill, not knowing why my parents didn’t come to the hospital. My sister (who was 23 at the time) told me that when she went through an eating disorder mom caught her and just walked out of the room. She said that our parents don’t care, that we were just (excuse my bluntness) broken condoms. She kept me at her house with her two year old and her husband. My parents didn’t care until my sister demanded money from them. They took me back, pretending to love me.

It was all fine for a week but then they started to get mean. The day my father slapped me was the day I ran. I ran to my cousin’s house and told my aunt what happened. She just listened to me; she listened when I told her about my suicide attempt, living with my sister, all the way up to being hit. When I was done she just quietly stood up dialed three numbers on her phone and left.
I must have fallen asleep, because after I don’t know how many minutes later a pretty woman in a paramedic uniform was waking me up with a first aid kit next to her, she was looking at my eye prodding it, and wiping it. When she pulled her hand away I saw blood on the cloth. The red contrasted to the white was a beautiful thing, considering the unbeautiful way I got the cut. She moved my head side to side and decided that I needed four stitches. She got those all settled and bandaged my face, then gave me an ice pack to reduce the swelling with two Advil. She then told my aunt that when I was struck that David’s (I stopped calling him my father as soon as he rose his hand to slap Me.) ring must have cut my eye. After Anna, the paramedic gave the ok two police women came in the room. I asked them why only women were here helping me; they said that most women after being hit by a man fear their presence. They were right, as soon as uncle jimmy came down the stairs, instead of his face it was my da- David’s. They got him back upstairs and got me calmed down. They kept questioning me they just wouldn’t let it go. So I told them everything.
That night da- I mean David was arrested and put away for 3 years on child abuse in the third degree. I was put into an eating disorder rehab and into therapy for emotional and physical abuse. I was released from the rehab after two years and done with therapy in six months. I went back to high school and graduated, then went in college and majored in literary arts, and minored in English. I went to work at a publishing house, and started dating the cute guy Jacob from editing on the 8th floor. We eventually moved in together and on June 3rd (David’s birthday) he proposed. We were married on December 31st, and a month later I found out that I was pregnant.
When I was about 8 months along, Jacob told me that we should go and visit my parents, let them know that they have a son in law, and two granddaughters on the way. He insisted that they were different than they were when I was sixteen. I agreed and emailed my mother, she was surprised that I contacted her first, and she apologized a million times, she told us to come over.
A week later I was at their doorstep heavily pregnant with a ring on my finger and a man on my arm. She hugged me and told me that my da- I mean that David was asleep and not to wake him. We sat and talked for an hour before I noticed something. I just kept studying my mother’s face. Her left eye was slightly darker than the other. I grabbed her arm and took a makeup wipe and wiped her face with it. She was sporting a black eye, knowing that I found out she hung her head. I told Jacob to go and put my mom in the car, and I carefully and silently went up the stairs to my mother and David’s room. I grabbed a suitcase and started filling it with clothes, jewelry, and anything el se she may need. I waited to zip it up until I was at the top of the stairs, because the noise could wake David up and I wanted him to stay asleep until we were long gone. When I stood back up I felt myself stepping in a puddle, I was in shock. I just went into labor while in a very dangerous situation.
Taking a deep breath I set the suitcase down at the top of the stairs and started to go down. About halfway down the stairs a contraction hit, it really didn’t hurt that much yet, I went through worst, it just surprised me. It was enough though, I stepped on the wrong part of the step and since my shoes were slippery and wet, I slipped.
I woke up in an ambulance, my body hurt and my back was on fire. I felt a stab of pain in my lower stomach, and I screamed. The paramedic turned around really fast, and looked at me in surprise, when I screamed out again he started talking, he told me that there was trauma when I fell down the stairs and I had to go into and emergency cesarean, then he told me something that in normal circumstances would shut me down, they said that there is a minimal chance that they could get both of the twins out safely without me losing too much blood. To keep me safely alive they could only get one out before my body started shutting down. I just told him to get both of my girls out safely then worry about me. By this time they were prepping me for surgery. My doctor, a wonderful woman with trustworthy eyes just asked me if that’s what I want and I just nodded. My girls will always come first.
When I was going under I heard my husband scream, and I knew that they had told him. They told him I chose death for myself rather our two beautiful children that haven’t had a chance to live yet. With that as my last thought I felt something being drug across my lower abdomen.
When I was asleep I heard everything. I heard my heart monitor, I heard the doctor announce the birth time of one of the babies, then after a minute or two I heard the time for another baby. I heard a sigh of relive, as they kept all three of us alive. Then I heard the shrill noise of my heart monitor telling them that my heart beat was slowing. I heard scrambles, and curses, and then it all stopped. All I heard was a very monotone and never ending noise.
I was in a white room, there were pictures on the wall, and it was my life. Then I heard coos coming from a little bassinet in the corner of the room. When I looked in I saw one of my babies, only one. I picked her up, and just looked at her. I started crying. When I looked up again there wasn’t a baby in my arms. There wasn’t a baby in my arms, there wasn’t a white room. There wasn’t even a hospital. When I looked up, I was sixteen again and very confused. I looked over and saw my alarm clock blaring. I looked at my wrists and there were no scars. I wasn’t overly skinny or anything. I was just sixteen.
My mom walked in my room looking worried. And told me it was time to get up. I nodded and as she was about to leave, I asked her where daddy was. She just smiled at me, and he walked into the room. Kissed my cheek and gave me $5 lunch money. On his way out he kissed my mother’s cheek, and she looked down and said “god I love that man”.
When I was sixteen I had a dream. And this was a dream that I will never forget, when I was sixteen I woke up to life and what it does to people. When I was sixteen I became aware to the people around me, I started helping people, I helped reduce bullying, and I sat with people. I was a girl people came to talk to. right now I am sixteen and my dream is changing again.