The Worst Thing that Ever Happened to Me.

Now I usually don't write about personal experiences, but I really think this fits in with nosleep.

I was homeschooled for most of my life, but when it came to fourth grade my mother started having a lot of mental problems and she couldn't teach me or my sister anymore. I remember her breaking the news and us crying our eyes out, scared of being away from our mother for eighty percent of the day.

The first day of fourth grade was a mess, but I made friends. I came around second period; art class. There was this really sweet, supportive girl named Sam (not her real name, for personal reasons), and she introduced me to Misty and a few other people. I'm still friends with Misty to this day, and she still remembers everything that happened like I do. Because no matter how long ago it was, I am never going to forget the most frightening thing that ever happened to me. And neither were the people that knew Sam.

Sam was always so happy, dancing around and smiling. Always. But people, including me, started noticing bruises on her head and a long scar on her face that looked like gravel had scraped it. They would bug and prod at her, trying to get her to tell them, but she went so weirdly silent, like Id never seen her. I guess at that point everyone knew something was wrong, but no one cared enough to tell anybody. She was bullied and cornered, but she still stayed strong. I forgot to mention how weird her family was. Sam came to have a sleepover at my house once, and her mother told my mom that she saw demons lurking around and that Sam wasn't safe here. She told me that Sam could see them too, but I remember one night she cried and confessed to me that she didn't see what her mom said she did. She said she had to talent and she wasn't gifted.

I tried my best to convince her she wasn't bad and it was normal, but she went oddly silent and mumbled, "The scars. It was my father." I'll never forget those words. We cried together, the whole night, and I came out to her as pansexual. She seemed to not like that, but she told me God doesn't judge like her parents do. "He says to love all," she would preach, "so that's what I'm going to do."

It all happened so quickly. It was summer now, and I stayed the night again. I don't know now if I regret that or not. In the middle of the night, the bed was empty except for me and I heard thumps in the living room. I remember crawling down the hallway on my hands and knees and peering out from around the corner, only to see something that would change my life forever.

It was Sam, in the living room, being beaten to shreds by her father. And her mom was just standing there with the most dead eyes I have ever seen. I cried and dug my nails so hard into my palms and arms I bled. My heart twisted. It was true. I ran back into her room and cried until I couldn't breathe. I didn't sleep at all, and when she slid into bed beside me, she cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, I glanced over at her while we were eating breakfast. Her parents were outside, and I felt tears in my eyes. "I saw what happened." She didn't react. "Saw what?" "We have to call the police." She bit her lip. Then, we did call the police. I had my mom pick me up before they got there, but I was told the police didn't do anything because Sam had ran away and called the police so many times it was considered teenage angst.

Sam's parents cut me off from her completely. I never saw her or heard from her again, except from when someone on Facebook with the same name friended me and their account was deleted a day later. This is (mostly; except for my parents fighting and extreme homophobia + just being born with these) that caused my anxiety, depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, insomnia and plain self hate.

I drove by her house a few weeks ago. No hint at what happened to her at all. Her dad works at Wal-Mart. I still see him sometimes, and I flip him off every time. It's not like he can do anything.

Submitted May 02, 2019 at 10:03PM by oofitsmae http://bit.ly/2JdjFe3