Image via Wikipedia The characters in the books I read always found a way out of a complication I ev en read books

about people who escaped German concentration camps and survived. I read about their tears ,pain, anger and despair. I cheered when they escaped and cried when they were caught and brought back. I knew what they felt like. I found books about slaves who knew there was a chance for a better life managed to get away from their owners and survive. Even though I had sneak and read , there was a certain comfort knowing that I could identify with these people. I wanted to be with them as they tried to escape their captors. I felt the joy in their hearts when they finally achieved freedom.The survivors in these stories b ecame my friends, so I kept the books close. I hid them so the step man wouldn't find them. Sometimes after the step man was" finished unleashing his wrath " wi th me , I would crawl painfully upstairs to my room and find the books. The tea rs fell onto the pages that were turned back to the parts where the prisoners w ere taken back to their cells after being beaten. The other prisoners would go o ver to comfort them and soothe their wounds.I held the book closer to me and I c ried right along with them. Even though they knew their death was inevitable , t hey still clung to the possibility and promise of life. I looked at the new bru ises and cringed in pain from the ones I couldn't see. I must have blacked out b riefly while he was beating me ,because I don't remember when he hit me on my ba ck with the belt and buckle, but I sure felt it. This was no dream . The pain wa s real. And so were the tears. As I drifted off to sleep I remembered how I read about people who clung to the possibility and promise of life.Through the pain and tears I managed to fall asleep and dream.... There was no pain and no tears there. Just the possibility and promise of life. Until I wake up and live the ni ghtmare. And when I did wake up, I could remember being told by the step man that nobody could keep him from doing whatever he wanted . He used to tell me he could hit me anytime he wanted and that if I told anyone or asked for help and he found o ut, he would half kill me. That was his favorite thing to say to me .It was also one of his favorite pastime activities, to practice half killing me. My part wa s to cling to the half he didn't kill so it would be available for him to pract ice more of his half killing me next time. Only I hoped he would wait til the op en wounds heal before he hits me in the same place again . People are starting t o ask questions at school. The gym teacher sent me to the nurse when he saw the scars on my legs and back.If I told what happened the step man would be enrage d. If I didn't tell , they were going to call and he would still be enraged, be cause that meant he had to come to school to discuss it. That meant punishment. I didnt want to get beat anymore. I begged them not to call. I could see them o bserving the fear in my eyes. I could also since their compassion. Somehow they knew there were some unspeakable horrors going on in that house. Their suspicion s were correct. Hallway rumors confirmed it. Someone had walked past the PINK HOUSE WITH THE WHITE PICKET FENCE and heard screams as the belt hit flesh. This would draw a few people they would hear the screams coming from the house. The step man actually opened the door and made me take my pants down as he beat me with his belt . He wanted the neighbors to hear him . He wanted to prove to me , the neighbors and classmates that no matter how hard he hit me or beat me, nobody could stop him. My classmates would hear him calling me names and hittin g me . The next day at school they would taunt me by repeating the same abusiv e things to me they heard him say because they thought it was funny.School was no longer a safe place . Everyone knew. I did have one friend . Someone whose fr iendship I will always treasure because she came into my life at a time where mo st people would shy away. She knew something was wrong because I always told to stay in the room.Her mother was a dear friend the woman who was married to the s tep man. On occasion I would be able to engage in conversation with Lila . I did my best to try to hide what was going on. Over the years I ve shared with her, but not until now would she and her mother find out about the horrors that man i nflicted on members of the household. (years later there would be a full investi

gation , photographic evidence and court) .When they were there he was a perfect gentleman, I still had to be at his beck and call and the calls of the guests. Lila was different. She took the time to know me and we are still friends . When she was there it was like the way people made friends in the books I read. That much of a dream came true. And for the time she and her mother were there it wa s bliss. Sometimes they would spend the night. It would be extra work for me , b ut this was the only time the step man would stay calm. Lila if you are reading this, This is why I used to like it when you and your mother used to spend the n ight. It felt safe like in the books....and in dreams. And finally I dreamt....O nly this time instead of a nightmare I dreamed of the possibilities and the prom ise of life.