Glass

There really isn't a reason for most things happening, only some. But when ever I was hit there wasn't a reason. Just drunk, high, and stupid parents. My sisters and I were able to hide them, all the bruises and scars. We maintained the appearance of a good, gentile, hippie family, even though we were anything but peaceful...
Our neighbors knew when we were all fighting, and even though they heard every word and cry that came out of our house, they did nothing. The screams and cries were so loud from my sisters and I that you would think we were getting beat, which we were, and still people did nothing. One night, though, things got out of hand...
I was all alone. My mom was at work, she was never really home anyways, my sisters were at their friends like most days, and dad... dad was just getting home from the bar. He was always the most violent while he was drunk. And it didn't help that I was listening to music. He never really liked it how while my sisters and I, or even our mom for that matter, would listen to music while we cleaned, Even if it was what he always listened to. And even if we got all the cleaning done he would always find something wrong with it and hit us. I knew what would happen to me. Or at least I thought I knew.
I was scared. Terrified is more like it. And I knew he was already mad when I heard the car door slam shut. So I ran. It never really helped before but still I ran into the bathroom and locked the door.
"Kamie where the **** are you?" I heard him screaming before he even closed the front door.
I started to cry. I knew that would get me into even more trouble because 'tears are for children so grow up or you'll get beat up' he would always tell me that, I never really knew why though.
Since the door was locked he couldn't get in. All I could hear was screaming and yelling,
"Kamie unlock the ******* door" and "Kamie I sware to ******* god if you don't open this door your going to be dead!" and more things along those lines, until, suddenly, I heard a 'CRACK'. He punched the door. I knew I had to let him in, even though I didn't want to. When I unlocked the door everything went bad. I saw the broken door before he grabbed me. It had a gaping hole in the top half of it, broken pieces of wood were folding inside of the door.
He threw me down that hall like a child would do with a rag doll. I landed next to my bedroom door and curled up into a tight ball. But he wasn't finished. He started to kick and punch me like I was nothing, nothing at all, all I could manage to do was cry. My whole body was in pain, I started to bleed, the red liquid spilling out of me, I couldn't stop it. Everything seemed to last forever. He wouldn't stop. The last thing I can remember is being picked up and thrown against the wall. All the glass and picture frames fell on my back, the glass cutting and stabbing me like knives as I lie there on the floor.
My name is Kamie, I was thirteen. That night my daddy murderd me.