Lauren is referred to the school guidance counselor after being found with lots of cuts on her chest, arms and thighs. The guidance counselor referred her to a therapist at a local clinic that deals with children and teenagers that self harm themselves.
The therapist helps Lauren deal with the abuse she suffered from her grandparents even after her grandfather died a year ago. Lauren is given a social worker and her living grandmother and mother are charged with abuse. Plus allowing Lauren to be abused by her grandfather.
Lauren father leaves her mother taking Lauren with him. He supports her as she learns to heal and know her father loves her and cares about her. They begin a new life with the support of her new friends at a catholic school and church. Plus her father’s family help her learn new ways to deal with the pressures of being under abuse by members of her mother’s family.
Her mother and grandmother are sentenced to a prison life term. Now Lauren has to learn to trust and learn to believe in what her family and friends tell her. she didn’t deserve the abused.
Excerpt
I took a tissue out my
pocket and cleared the mist from my glasses. Once I put them back on, they
misted up again. I noticed Juliet at the black iron-rod gates in her Dodge Neon
car. I rushed through the playground, climbed into the front passenger seat and
buckled myself in.
She turned to look at
me and I smiled widely. I didn’t say anything to her. I hadn’t talked to anyone
since the funeral of my Grandfather Perry. I wasn’t allowed to go to his funeral
as I was told it was my fault he died. How could I kill a full-grown man? His
death was a relief in my mind. Mom was adamant about blaming me for his death.
She beat me till my body was black and blue with bruises.
It’s been a year now,
and I’m still being blamed for his death. To cope, I found my own way. I was
given a social worker, Juliet Cox. She tried her hardest to get me to talk, but
I didn’t. I hadn’t said a single word since his demise. I hadn’t spoken to my
parents, my friends or my Grandmother Perry.
I can still remember
how he looked as he sat in his chair with his eyes closed. This was something I
couldn’t get out my mind. Each night when I go to sleep, I see him looking over
me as I lie in bed. Dad was the only one who didn’t blame me for his death. It
was like he was there believing in me. I just couldn’t understand him one bit.
Juliet drove through
town and began talking about this being my third visit to Sherry, my therapist.
I hadn’t spoken to her since I was assigned to her. “Remember to talk. If you
start talking, it will help let people know how you’re feeling. We’re here to
help you. Remember that,” Juliet said as I climbed out of the car. The only
reason I was in therapy was that I was a self-harmer.
Nobody knew I carried a
utility knife and razor blade in my backpack. If people found out, I’m sure
they’d lock me into a mental hospital. I watched Juliet drive off. I stood
there as her car got into the distance. I turned to look at the tall building
where Sherry was. Her office was on the fourth floor. I hated heights; it meant
I had to take the elevator up to her floor.
“Talk and it will
help”; the words rang throughout my mind as I entered the building. I counted
all the steps as I made my way to the elevator and climbed in. It was empty. I
pressed the button for floor four. The thought of going into Sherry’s office
and talking with her was far from my mind. I shook my head and told myself no.
He told me if I ever told anyone he’d come get me and take me to hell with him.
I didn’t want to go to hell. I tried my best to be good and honest with all my
friends.
Dear God,
Give
me the strength, guidance and help to get through this session with Sherry. I
mustn’t tell a soul what he did to me. Now my Uncle David is taking his place
and raping me. Every time mom leaves me with my Grandmother Martha, he rapes
me. Plus, my grandmother will beat me like mom does. She put a hot poker for
the open log fire on my back. I still have the scar from that. AMEN!
I walked out of the
elevator and along the hallway and to the waiting room. This will be another
hour in silence, I was sure. I walked through the wood-and-glass door and up to
the window. I handed the receptionist a piece of paper with my name on it and
whom I was there to see. I didn’t talk to anyone. “Go sit down, I’ll tell
Sherry you’re here.” I turned to see a half-crowded waiting room and sat on a
chair by myself.
I clutched my backpack
to my chest and held it there. It had my utility knife and razor inside. I started
to look around the waiting room, thinking about what Sherry would ask today.
Would she want me to talk? I sure hoped not. I was too scared to talk. Talking
meant letting people inside my mind, to let them know what had happened to me
by my grandfather, grandmother and mom.
Slowly looking from one
person to another, I noticed that they weren’t looking at me. Why weren’t they
staring at me, looking into my mind, reading my mind? Why weren’t they trying
to figure out why I was here in a therapist’s office? I had to figure that out.
As I took a second glance around the room, I saw Sherry waiting for me. Was she
trying to read my mind? I bet she was.
I had to block everyone
out of my mind. Nobody must know what I was thinking of doing once the hour was
up. “You ready, Lauren?” Sherry inquired as she stood by the open door. I
nodded my head, got up and moved in her direction.
Just as I stood, I
gazed around the waiting room once more. I had to make sure nobody was reading
my mind. I deliberately closed it off. I didn’t want anyone knowing what I was
thinking or planning. I followed Sherry along the corridors, around the corner
and into her office. She sat on one couch as I dumped my backpack onto the
opposite one. I didn’t want to sit down. If I sat opposite her, she’d try to read
my mind. I couldn’t have that at all.
I paced the floor right
behind the couch that I had laid my backpack on. My head was buzzing; feeling
like someone was trying to get inside, like someone was trying to read my
thoughts and feelings. I stopped for a minute to peek outside the large
windows. It was a big room. There were tall buildings everywhere outside.
I was getting more
paranoid than usual. I couldn’t let anyone inside my mind; so much stuff was in
there that I mustn’t tell to a soul. They’ll come get me if I tell anyone. Mom
once told me that if I told on her she would kill me. She’d go on to say God
didn’t create me, Satan did.
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