A Life I Never Knew

Luna's Pov

I wake up every day dreading that I'm still breathing.

A few times a day I find myself thinking"How am I still alive"?

This a question I never find the answer to but maybe

because...

I'm a useless fool...

A coward...

A slut...

A bitch...

A dumb whore...

At least that's what he tells me.

As an eighteen-year-old girl, I am extremely underdeveloped physically and mentally. I can tell from looking at other girls in my neighborhood they all looked healthy while I was a bag of bones.

Their skin glowed, their hair shined and they had bright white teeth accompanied by pretty smiles. When I looked at my reflection I saw none of those things just a dead girl looking back at me. Dry knotted hair, pale skin that bruised way too easily, and a few missing teeth from getting knocked out like I said there's nothing similar between us.

Due to the constant abuse and neglect I've endured since the age of eight years old my body has nearly shut down and so has my mental health. I can speak but I choose not to because I'm afraid.

My legs are barely usable from the constant broken bones that healed incorrectly. Standing or walking for more than ten minutes I start to have pain in my bones. Yet I still have to do everything around the house I have learned to endure the pain.

It also doesn't help that I don't know how to read or write since no one ever taught me I had to learn things from observation.

I remember when I was about six or seven there was a little girl named Anna who lived next door to me. She sometimes would sneak over when no one was home and we'd play. She taught me many things like colors, shapes, and numbers.

She's the reason I know about school and what friends are. At that time I was so confused about why I couldn't do the things she did but I soon found out that dumb whores aren't allowed to be smart or have friends. Unfortunately, she moved away and that was the last of my teachings along with my first and last friend.

I always wondered how it would feel to go to school like Anna and the rest of the kids. I would wake up early and watch Anna and the other kids get on the big yellow car(she means bus but she only knows the word car to describe it). After Anna moved away I made sure to practice counting, shapes, and colors. I know how to count and pretty high too up to 100 Also my favorite color is pink!

When I cleaned up around the house I would see small clips of newspapers and magazines I tried my best to sound out words but to no avail I could not succeed on my own and I gave up trying again. So instead I would just look at the pictures of the funny pages and that was a source of entertainment.

I lived in the small dusty attic that sat atop the house. It was filthy and filled with dust and mold that caused me to have breathing problems. It was occupied by rodents and pests but it's the only space I know. When I had the time and energy I would sit at the window and watch everyone who came by that was another form of entertainment.

I lived vicariously through the people in my neighborhood.

One day I overheard my mother telling people that I was a seriously ill child and could not interact with other people that's why I couldn't attend school or step outside the house. No one questioned her.

My mother Stacey Moore, has never shown me love nor affection I can honestly say she's never even hugged me not to mention uttered the words "I love you". She only fed me bread, jam, water, and milk. Milk is my favorite especially since it's rare.

Since I could remember from the age of five years old I was tasked with chores and that was my sole purpose in the house.

At first, the abuse was just pure negligence Mom would leave me home alone for days even weeks without food. Sometimes the hunger got so bad I ate old and moldy bread washing it down with expired milk I did this many times over the years.

The bills were hardly paid so when the water, heat, and electricity went out I had to fend for myself. I thought at least I had a home and a mom, these two things were the most important to me at that time.

It wasn't until she met him Robbie Owens when I turned eight years old that everything went from bad to much much worse.

From the jump, Robbie gave me bad vibes he always looked at me with creepy eyes and that made my skin crawl. Robbie moved into our small home fairly quickly and decided he was "the man of the house" and anything he did or said goes, no matter what. He quickly laid out the rules for me.

1. Never talk back. Speak when spoken to.

2. No TV, radio, or anything entertainment (he said it clouds the mind) I wouldn't know anyway because I have only seen one TV before and then mom sold it for money. And what's a radio? I wanted to ask but decided against it.

3. Never come out of the attic unless it's for chores or he calls for me.

4. Have breakfast, lunch, and dinner ready for him every day at the times he scheduled.

5.  Never disrespect him or face the consequences (he doesn't specify what would be deemed disrespectful).

6. The last and most important rule... never to speak of what happens behind these doors.

I soon broke most of these rules or in his mind, I broke them so I would get punished.

It was simply impossible for an eight-year-old to follow such rules. I quickly found out the consequences and that's when I received my first beating.

To my surprise, mom came to my defense trying to stop him but we both were beaten unconscious by him. For the first time in my life, I saw my mother angry with me and not AT me. Thinking back on it my mom was a terrible parent but I guess she had a bottom line and Robbie was crossing it.

Robbie and their mom would fight after drinking and smoking all day. One time we tried to run away but Robbie caught us and beat Mom until she couldn't open her eyes anymore.

I was so sad and scared for my mother. Even though she doesn't love me she's never hurt me physically so seeing her beat and battered made me feel terrible. I think she felt the same way because anytime Robbie hit me she'd step up and try to stop him but only for us both to get it worse.

When I was twelve years old one day the beating was getting so bad I was sure she would die. Robbie had my mother by her neck strangling her. I could see her legs thrashing and her hands scratching at his arms trying to release herself but he only held her down harder.

I sat huddled under the kitchen table afraid to come out. Once I saw my mother's body stop moving a cold chill swept throughout my entire body.

She's just passed out, right?

Soon heavy footsteps carried their way to the kitchen. I could see his long legs and dirty black boots from under the table. Before he could do or say anything I dashed from under the table trying to make a quick exit for the door.

Unfortunately, I was caught by my hair dragged, and slung to the ground hard next to my mother's unconscious body.

The wind was knocked out of me but I was determined to get away. I crawled to my mother shaking her profusely only to get no response.

"MOM! MOM! WAKE UP PLEASE! WAKE UP"!

I shook my mother violently yet she still was unresponsive.

"I killed that bitch! You'll be next! Do you see what happens when you disrespect me"?! He hollered.

I was so scared is my mother dead?

I crawl closer to her putting my hand on her heart..

Nothing.

I put my hand over her nose.

Nothing...

Tears pooled into my eyes as I let out a small voice.

"M-mom.. wake up.. please... You can't be.." I'm sobbing I don't want to be left alone with this monster!

"Now I'll show you what happen to whores that disrespect me," he said as he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants".

My first time, my innocence, gone forever.

On the floor next to my mother's lifeless body he ripped my clothes off and assaulted me over and over again.

I knew from there that the hell I thought I was living was nothing compared to what the future held.