Don 't Me Like A Bull On Steroids

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And before I knew it, he was at me like a bull on steroids. He grasped me around the neck. I fought, but he hit me again and again. I kicked and hollered as loud as I could, but not a single soul was around to hear my cries. My voice faded to a mosquito whine as he covered my mouth with his grimy hands. The last thing I saw was a black ski mask, and, suddenly, everything went black. Confused, I woke up. The frigid air of the dark night chilled my bones to the core. I soon realized I was outside on the hard, scratchy grass. He, the monstrous, tattooed man, left me. I don’t know where I am, how I turned up here, or how I arrive at home. I bet my father doesn’t even notice my absence. He never loved me. I hope someone cares enough to look for me. Maybe my mother does. Perhaps not; she never listens to what I have to say. Like she always said, I’m just a little girl. The next morning I heard deafening sirens ringing in my ears. Were they coming for me, or was there just a fire nearby? I looked around. In the distance I saw an abandoned house anticipating its crumble. The sirens were approaching closer and closer. I could hear the engine roaring nearer and nearer. The flying dust was visible from my position. It’s an ambulance. Do they see me? I guess not. The ambulance rushed right past me, and I threw myself to the ground, as if I was pushed. Why me? What did I do to deserve this torture? I give up. I couldn’t contain my tears anymore. I started to feel dizzy and overwhelmed,

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