I never realized I was so upset. Yeah, I thought about it, but I always did alright. Life was perfect during the day or that’s what my family and friends saw. They saw the smile on my face, the pretty clothes I wore, and they only saw what I wanted them to see. No one tried to see more. I didn’t want anyone to see the other side; the dark side. That side, is the side, I bury down deep. It only comes out late at night when I’m all alone. I lie in bed and think about all the awful things that my step dad did to me. The way he would craw into bed with me. The way his nasty, drunken breath felt against my cheek. I wanted him to stop, I needed him to stop. The worst part of all was I know my mom could hear everything, every nasty thing he said to me. She would never do anything to stop it. She loved him, more than she ever loved me. I don’t know what I did to deserve the abuse; I must’ve been bad, done something awful. I knew my step dad was not right for my family as soon as I laid my eyes on him. The way he winked at me and looked my body up and down, again and again. I always told myself it was better me than my sisters, but I envied them. They had no worries, no cares, slept all night with no bad dreams and no rude interruptions.

I never realized I was so vulnerable until the dreams got worse. They were so real. Getting up every day and participating in life became a struggle, it became work. I was falling so fast, it was only a matter of time before I hit rock bottom. My life was fading fast; right before my eyes. People could tell, I know they could. Even my “best friends” acted like they thought I was fine. Why’d they stop calling? I would have helped them, if their life was spiraling out of control.

I never realized I was so close to destruction, until I found myself on the building. One thousand feet above the ground. Three steps and I wouldn’t have to feel any pain. I would have no worries; I would leave all this pain and sorrow. They would finally realize. They all would. Those people are the ones who brought me only two steps from the edge. Why would they care, they never call, they slowly left me stranded. One more step, one more step and they will wish they helped, wish they would’ve sent that text, dialed that number. One more step and my mom will be sorry, sorry she never made him stop touching me. Maybe my step dad will regret every single night.

I never realized I was so close to flying, until I took that one last step. That one step made all pain leave my body. One step and my life was perfect again. One step and I was flying, soaring for 1,000 feet, but once again I was interrupted.