Hunger, Abuse, can life get any worse?
May sound insane, but it's pure torture for me.
Rather not talk about why, it's hard for me to talk about.
So this is why I hate lunch at school.
The smell of food was travelling up my nose.
It's smells so good.
I know I was saying it was torture but this is the cruel.
That's when I saw it.
Burger and fries abandoned on a table.
Nobody would leave such good quality food abandoned.
I looked around to see if anyone was watching, I then swiped the box and tucked it my bag.
I turned around.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing Jones?" Scott said
"N-N-Nothing," I stuttered.
"So you think you can help yourself to my food whenever you like?!" he said
"N-N-No, of course not! Here! Take it!" I said.
I Placed the box on the table.
"Too late...I'm gonna tear you apart until you are nothing but a pile of bones, Callie. Bones. Callie Bones," he said slowly.
Before I knew it the whole room was chanting 'Callie Bones'.
Then came the harsh impact of Scott's fist to my cheek.
It felt as if gravity was pulling me down in slow motion.
I waited for an explosion of pain as I came in contact with the floor.
But instead my fall was broken by someone who caught me.
I opened my eyes and found myself in the nurses office.
I groaned in pain.
"Callie? are you okay?"
I looked next to my bed.
"I think so Mr Way," I mumbled.
He gave me a smile.
"Why did you take his food in the first place? I can understand if it's because you were upset about him flicking paint at you," he said.
"It wasn't because of that, I was...hungry," I mumbled.
"Hungry? Why didn't you get your own food then?" he asked.
I stayed silent.
"Here," he said.
He placed a tray with burger and chips in front of me.
My first real meal.
I slowly ate it and the taste made me wanna jump for joy.
He then started inspecting my cheek.
His hand was brushing against my mouth very gently.
I couldn't help myself.
I gave his hand a kiss that was so small it was pratically unnoticable.
He hesitated then spoke.
"I've letting you go home after you've done,"
I gave a small smile.
"Thank you," I said.
"No problem," he said.
As he walked out of the room, I could have been imagining things, but I think I saw him press his lips against the spot I kissed.
On the way home I picked up the daily shopping.
"Oi! Callie get your lazy ass here now!"
I carried the shopping into the other room where my drunken dad was sitting on the sofa watching TV.
"Did you get the shopping?" he asked.
I replied "Yes dad, eggs, bacon, bread-"
"Did you get me beer?" he asked.
"Dad, I'm not old enough to buy beer," I said.
He stood up.
"Don't you dare lie to me bitch!" he snapped.
"I'm not!" I said.
He then squeezed my face tightly, this really hurt where Scott punched me.
He then sniffed my breath.
My dad's sense of smell is as good as a dogs.
"Burger and fries, you greedy little bitch! You spent the money for my beer on junk food, so you can stuff your face!" he roared.
"No! I didn't!" I protested.
He then grabbed the hair on top of my head pulled it hard making me scream.
He then started bashing my head violently against the wall.
He repeated this over and over again.
About ten minutes later he spat on me and shouted:
"Make my dinner you selfish bitch!"
I scrambled to my feet and ran to the kitchen.
I felt sick.
Sick because all I had to eat for dinner as usual was the leftovers my dad had which is very few.
Sometimes I even end up going through bins looking for food.
I also felt sick because of life in general.
I knelt on my bedroom floor and pulled out a photo hidden at the edge of the floorboards.
She died not long after I managed to speak.
She was murdered.
Stabbed right in the heart.
From what I'd heard, I was lucky for her to be my mom.
But I'll never know.
I lay down on my bed, clutched the photo to my chest and silently cried.