Eight years and four months. 2000-2008. 

This is my truth. The true story of what happened just a few years ago. I'd recommend reading it in the woods by a roaring fire to get the real experience. You will scream, you will cry at some parts of it, but of course find the strength to turn the next page. I am Alyssa Russell, and this is the story of one little girls hell. No one mentioned I lived up there on that desolate road. No one spoke a word of it. Five people were afraid to say it or admit it. They probably never will. 

Except me. Because they know me. They know I would find one way or another to remind them of their crimes. “Your a liar. Have been ever since you were four! Do you think anyone would believe you?” Now I have people who believe me. Yes there are psychopaths in the world but Alan and Sean were the most deranged, and clearly insane people I ever met. So read my truth and find out how these five people got away with heinous crimes. This is a two book series because the horror is so long. 

Let’s begin with what truly happened when I was four years old. I was loved and I had the best time of my life. Until one obsessed woman saw me. The wife of my biological father who married her when he and my mother divorced. This woman was Kirsten, and she wanted me to be her daughter. So she convinced my father to coach me with another woman to lie about my mother. While this occurred Kirsten went to the store and bought several clothes, matching furniture and toys by the bag full. She had my room painted pink and waited. Of course this was illegal but obsession wasn’t that bad- was it? My mother was in tears as police came and gave her the restraining order. My sister watched as Kirsten and my father picked me up. I was placed in a brand new car seat. I was given brand new toys and my father drove off while my older sister watched with tears in her eyes. My mother at her in laws house was sobbing with my picture in her hand, terrified for me. Any other mother would have found Kirsten and clawed out her eyes but my mother knew the law was on that woman’s side and that pained her very much. That was the day I was truly damned. 

According to my father Kirsten began to teach me biblical sayings and I was asked to call her mommy. I didn’t know I had another mother out there fighting for me. Kirsten bought a large playground for me and her friends asked her if I was her daughter. She would grin and teach me to say “I love you Momma.” Which was sickening and cruel of her to do. My father pulled me aside one day while Kirsten added ten more photos to an album dedicated to me. “Kirsten is not your mother. Your mother is in Burlington and she loves you very much. Don’t let me ever hear you call her mom. Call her Kirsten.” 

Kirsten kept that album under lock and key. My infant photos my father was given and she had several school pictures. I never was allowed to look at the album but I would find her gazing through the photos with such love it creeped me out. My sister wanted to visit and my father allowed it to show me that I had other family out there. If my mother pleaded Kirsten went into a angry rampage. “I’m the best mother Alyssa has! I’ll have that woman arrested if she is within ten feet of my kid!” 

“She is not your child Kirsten!” My father yelled back. Kirsten slammed down the plate she was washing and stormed upstairs. My brothers were not allowed to visit but Kirsten wanted me to stay with her. I sat on the floor with my toys while she asked who I loved more. My father walked in to see me curled up on the floor sleeping with a teddy bear while Kirsten looked through the photo album she treasured. He carried me in my room and tucked me in. 

“Kirsten...are you ok?” He asked hesitantly. She looked at him and silently got up and closed the door on him and he stood while she locked the door. Confused my father decided to take me and her sons to a park to play. 

 I grew up a curious child. Innocent and brave, I traveled from my mother's loving arms into my biological fathers hands. Things were good until my mental disabilities began to show. Soon my father decided to take matters into his own hands. He purchased a crib. I was seven when he decided to treat me like an infant. Making me eat baby food, putting me in a crib and throwing soda bottles at me. "Baby this, Baby that." He even bought a high chair which he put to the side in front of the dining table like it was a stage for his sick amusement. My stepmother thought it was hilarious when he would stand up and cut my meat into baby portions. Feed it to me and even change my diaper. I even convinced myself that he truly thought he wanted me as a baby. When asked about the high chair and crib, he eventually decided to save himself the embarrassment and convinced my stepmother to have a daycare. Just to imagine my stepmother was qualified by DCF to run a daycare makes me shiver to this day. Especially when the children left I was the infant again. 

One day I decided to run away. I had turned eight that day and came down with two bags. Proud and defiant I stood in front of them all. My two stepbrothers, my father and stepmother. "I'm running away." I said. Suddenly laughter. It was seven and dark outside pitch black. My stepmother grabbed my hand and rushed me upstairs. Packing sheets, toys, and a can of soup. She was the hostess for today's show. Running me downstairs she laughed like a teenager. "She is too!" Then she shoved me outdoors. Pitch black out I begin to get terrified. Pounding on the door I realize she locked it. Running around the house I see they are ignoring my cries. I pound on the door until I swear my hands are going to break. She lets me in and leans toward me "How was that?" 

I bite my lip and run upstairs. Crying I punch my pillows. 

The baby treatment continued. Kirsten would hide the cups and buy baby bottles and make me drink out of those. When I began to tell the neighbors about the cruelty Kirsten had Sean go to the truck and had me wait in the kitchen. I waited confused and suddenly I was grabbed. My father caught me in a tight grip as he handed Kirsten baby formula. At seven years old I was terrified as Kirsten spooned the flour like substance and mixed it with water. I began to scream as she grabbed my face and tears streamed down my cheeks. The made me drink the bottle. Pleased Kirsten put away the formula and said “This will happen more often if you continue to ruin this family.” 

I was let go. My stomach lurched and it hurt so bad. My brother watched as every week Kirsten would have my father hold me while she made me drink the formula. Her laughter still haunts me to this day. My brother would watch as my father dragged me up the stairs and change my diaper even though I had been potty trained ever since I was four. I tried so hard to defend myself. Kicking, screaming, while Kirsten would laugh downstairs. The baby treatment would leave me incoherent and peeing in my pants. I wasn’t allowed to help in the kitchen because that meant I was the baby. Kirsten would go to the store and buy bibs, baby bottles, and formula, she would ask the pharmacist what diapers were best. No one assumed that she and Sean were torturing me. She would brag to Sean that the pharmacists were told I was mentally retarded and wasn’t potty trained. 

The formula had a bad effect on my body. My brother Mike noticed I stopped going to the bathroom and noticed I haven’t went in an entire week. He feared about my digestive system and brought me medicines he bought. Hot tea and cocoa were given and they worked. I went to the bathroom again but it hurt so bad. Mike had to literally carry me to my bed and tuck me in. I held my stomach as he brought heating pads and juice. 

The next day when Kirsten brought the formula to mix Mike grabbed it out of her hands. The kitchen went silent as he confronted her. My father let me go and I bolted for my room. Mike continued arguing with Kirsten who pleaded and said “it was for my own good not to lie.” Mike continued to yell and Kirsten slapped him hard. “I’m the parent Michael! Your 15 and shouldn’t be arguing with me! Your father and I agree this  is the best thing for her.” 

“If you use that formula again mom,” Mike said “I’ll report this entire family to CPS.” 

Kirsten went silent. The baby treatment stopped for Mike the next day three out the formula and when Kirsten would stomp up the stairs he would have me go in his room and lock the door preventing the true monster from tormenting me. 

I would play video games and look at comics and looked at him. I loved him for stopping the baby treatment. I loved him for being a better father then my own.  That was went on a regular suburban house in a small town. Nobody noticed-or cared. 

Chapter One; Sparks Fly. 

I sat in the passenger seat of my father's work truck. He worked at the time at a vending machine business. My eyes filled with tears from the previous night. My stepmother went livid screaming at me cursing me out for accusing her precious son. They locked me in my room while the whole family went into spirals. My older brother tried to comfort me but my stepmother prevented him. Not one word of comfort as I sat on the bed so ashamed with myself I wondered at the age of eight why I was born. To be treated with such disgust and humility. I curled up on my bed wanting to scream and curse them out.  The one time I truly began to feel a connection with my father he decides to cast me out of the family. Face it he loved his sons more than me. They were innocent and loved and I was the black sheep. I knew he would never love me. Only once did he save my life I was born gray and surgeons rushed me to the incubator. My mother couldn't be there at that hour due to emergency surgery. As my color returned they discovered I had a serious heart murmur. My father picked me up and cradled me in his arms. Massaging my chest until the murmur went away. Doctors rushed in and out checking my vitals. My father stood in that waiting room comforting me and every time that murmur came back he massaged my chest again. Now I looked at my father wondering if he remembered. Yet that usual scowl came back as he looked at me.

"Your going to love it at my dad's. Bonfires every Saturday, I remember how you used to watch the fire die out and the sandpit can be your playground. Swings. I even made trails in the woods when I was your age. Oh I used to swing for hours." He said. Then that smile I rarely see. Pride and happiness. I bit my lip. I was furious for him choosing his sons over me like usual. My father looked at me and said "I'll visit sometimes. But it will only be me. Your stepmother is kind of a stubborn woman." 

I didn't want him to visit. The bonfire though on Saturdays gave me a sense of security. If he was being mean to me I could easily walk around it. No one would walk through a fire. Who would? They would just hugely regret it. The bonfire at my grandfathers was a huge fire. 6 feet wide and four foot in height. It was at the sandpit. It was a large sandpit. Two acres and a half full of cars. Which also was great for hide and seek. That would be fun. Hide and seek in the sandpit. I knew what my father meant though, it was like a playground. I remember when I was four the only memory I had was me at the playground where it was surrounded by woods. A large gate was placed for our safety and I looked at the woods. I felt something as I walked over and placed my hands on the fence. The pines stirred and i laughed. Giggling i called for the birds and suddenly my aunt calls for me and I am in the clubhouse with my aunts face telling me something, I nodded and she handed me cookies. Then I am being taken away by a social worker who is questioning me. I remember looking at the skylights wondering what happened then all I remember is I lived with my father after that with my mother trying everything she could to get me back.

"I already told my dad that your mother can't call you or talk to you." He said sourly. 

That's why I  hated him too. My mother had been so kind to me until I  turned four and then i was coached to tell a lie about my mother. Later in my adult life I believed it a revenge tactic to get back at my mother. Brought on possibly by my own father. Child services came and took me away and gave me to my father who treated me like I was a dog that was born with a disease. How ridiculous that my father thinks my mother is worse then him. That's like a fly telling a bear to get away from honey. I brushed back my shoulder length hair and sighed. I looked at my father. I'll never forget his look on his unshaven face. He looked like he had been up all night fighting demons. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white. His eyes slightly bloodshot and he keeps mumbling "She will be fine." As if to convince God himself. 

I still trusted him, I still loved him. I was a innocent child yearning for the magic of the world and the love I desperately was looking for. I wanted to move to a different country and see if he would fight to see me. If only i knew, he was doing the worst thing imaginable. Not being a father even I saw at age eight he was not the father every daughter should have. Protective, loving, and caring. I slumped in the passenger seat and wanted to be a bird. I wanted to fly away to a happy land, a happier time, and a happier life. This was the second time now I caused chaos in the house, oh how I wished that little girl four years ago didn't lie. Damn that little girl, then I realize it was me.

 I crossed my fingers praying he would turn over to me and hug me. It's difficult to even say I loved him, in fact I wonder each day I get up if he ever used to love me. He had to of to put on such a look like this. It was on the tip of my tongue to whirl towards him and say these words I never got the guts to say. Something always blocked me because my throat would tighten because he is my father. I must respect him. 

"Don't you love me daddy? You are cruel to me and loving towards the boys. I'm so sorry I did a bad thing when I was little! Please give me kindness instead of hate. I want to love you and not hate you, why can't you be a real father?" 

He must of seen something in my eyes because he began to comfort me. "It's not permanent. My father and I agreed coming here was the best choice. It is safe away from The drama, I will do anything to protect you. It's my job as a father. The sandpit is fun, swings, your still with family who love you. I grew up there. I want you to be good." 

I nodded. Even though later on in my teen years after I left I wished I told him where he can stick his fatherly job. As we drove up I thought of escaping. I grab the handle of the car and yank twice quietly. After I failed I looked at him wishing he could just turn around. After My stepmother before this morning shrieked at me and locked me in my room I sat on the bed just listening with my heart racing. 

"You do something Sean! My son is innocent! That little bitch has been lying for gods know forever! If you don't do anything we are through!" I heard her yell. My father spoke. 

"I love you babe and the boys. I'm sorry she is doing this." I heard him say hoarsely. 

"Then control your daughter!" She yelled. "Get rid of her!" Those were words to sting. 

Even from upstairs I could hear my father suck in his breath. 

"You wanted a daughter. Now your sticking up for your son who might have done it?" 

My stepmother cursed at him. My fathers voice went to ice. 

"I caught him. I almost put him a chokehold. I could have killed him but I waited until you were home. Your son is fucking sick. We should be getting rid of him. Not her." 

My stepmother marched up the stairs. Slamming the master bedroom door shut. I could hear her crying and cursing. My blood turned ice cold. My father opened the door and had me come downstairs. I walked downstairs behind him. He cooked my lunch and he just sat with his head in his hands. It was a very awkward meal. He looked at me and sighed. "What am I going to do with you?" He asked in a whisper. He looked like a terrified child. We sat there for a while then Nick came in. He was four years older than me. Tall with dark hair and black glasses. He saw my father who stood up and walked over to him. "Walk into the kitchen and if you make any eye contact Nick I'll rip your eyes out." Nick obeyed. Literally running upstairs. Mike sat next to me trying to talk to me but my father cut off the conversation and had Mike mow the lawn. Footsteps behind me I heard my stepmother talk to my father. 

"It's taken care of. I called your parents. They will take her." She said coolly and sat at the head of the table. My father glared at her for not notifying him of this decision. My grandparents Alan, and Nancy are in their fifties and don't go really anywhere. They live in acres and acres of woods, on a desolate road. We would go for the Saturday bonfire to burn trash and bottles. My father barely talked about his childhood life. Only that it was a boring one. My heart sunk I wanted to jump from my chair and cry but my stepmother leaned in and grinned like a shark. "You will love it there." She began. 

"Babe, we should give her a decision. We shouldn't throw her to my fathers. Give her a chance to speak." My father sharply said. "It's up to you Alyssa." 

My heart is beating furiously. I didn't want to be hurt anymore. My only wish is to have my father love me again. Perhaps if I live at my grandfathers I will be finally loved. I looked at my father just wishing he could leave my stepmother and bring me to my real mother. My stepmother tried to have me call her mom but my father stiffened every time I did and said I should just call her by her first name. Also I have the woods to run in and play. If anyone hurt me I can just run into little clubhouses and make friends possibly. 

My father just looked down. As if he wanted to stick up for me. 

My stepmother got irritated. "Well?" 

"I want my mother. My real mother." I said. 

"Alyssa." My father warned. I looked at him defiantly. 

"Sweetie, your mother is a bad person. She would be a not good mommy. I'm sure I can still visit and they have a bedroom all set for you with a big bed and lots of toys, the sandpit the bonfire nights," she said. 

I wanted to please my father. I wanted to be recognized by him and the only way I could is going to HighGate. I wanted to gain his love. So I told myself I had to do it.

I wanted to slap my stepmother for her coolness in this situation. I looked at my father and said. "I want to live with Papa Alan." 

My father stiffened. As if a bad memory hit him when I said my grandfathers name. He walked out of the room. My stepmother was satisfied with my decision and praised me for it. I just sat at that usual uncomfortable table chair and thought quietly if I was really going to like it. I loved the woods. It gave me a sense a mysterious aura was surrounding it as if a magical land was before my eyes. It's beauty can lure you into dangers as the animals prey at night. Scary indeed. I remember i used to have a large fear of plants. Once there was a wooden playground in our backyard and a sunflower grew. A very tall sunflower due to someone dropping sunflower seeds. I would climb up but my feet would refuse to move because I saw the sunflower under the playground. I would scream and shake as if an armed soldier were under that playground! I would race down the ladder and cling onto my stepmother in terror. It ended up the plant being cut down by my stepmothers request. The one plant I don't regret having cut down. That was when the baby treatment began. They were highly embarrassed because neighbors would hear my cries over that sunflower and joke about it. 

I got over the fear eventually because a gorgeous rose bush bloomed by the neighbors. I walked over one time to the rose bush during the winter and found a pretty watch that still worked. Innocently I thought it was the rose bush asking for my forgiveness that it's on the lawn. Though thinking back to the sunflower incident I think my stepmother put the watch over there so I would get over the fear. I went over to the Rose bush and placed my small hand on the petals. I remember one Rose in particular was perfect to the very stem. I saw the many scraggly thorns and backed away. Even mother plants have to protect their babies. Just like my father was trying to protect me. 

I don't know how long I stood there. Just staring at the Rose bush and the grass. My father came behind me and had me stand up. "Ready to go?" He asked. I nodded and we headed towards the car. I stood in front of the suburban home that I called my childhood home with its perfect lawn and had four bedrooms. Two dining rooms with the cow decorated kitchen. To my stepmothers perfect living room with biblical sayings on the walls, to the teddy bears that looked ancient. The sharp smell of cleaner everywhere and everything perfect. Except me, I was the punching bag for everyone's problems. 

As me and my father hopped in the car I looked at the living room window. My stepmother was seen handing out homework to my stepbrothers and giggling with them. Disgust went through me as I saw them put on a tv show and laugh along with it. I hated my stepmother that day. She was my fathers wife and had to know something of his parents! Or his childhood! 

After dropping me off he drove back to the hometown and they cancelled the daycare center. No use for it now. They took apart the crib and high chair and kept it in my room and soon it was turned into a storage room. Even the most perfect family sometimes had the most sinister secrets. They threw out the baby food and I saw my loving stepmother had placed all my cherished possessions in three garbage bags. She didn't even bother bagging my comforter or pillows. Just threw them in the back of the rusty truck and walked swiftly back in the house as if she had more important things to do. I sat in the car just looking out the window wanting to scream my heart out. 'Help me, help me I am not loved!' I wanted to smash the window in anger. Yet at the time I didn't have the muscles yet. I was only a emotional eight year old girl looking for Hope. 

Michael is who I will miss the most. My favorite stepbrother who always defended me and made sure Nick was away from me. If I wanted to explore he would bring me to abandoned trains and taught me how to bike. He showed me the playground and brought me to fun places. When I woke up early he would cook me breakfast and he always stuck up for me. Even in front of my father. When it was winter he would pull me in the sled. He helped me build my first igloo and we had a major snowball fight prank on my father who wasn't expecting it. We hid behind a wall and had a ton of snowballs. When he came out oh, it was a surprise for him. He was soaked and irritated when he reached the car. We were rolling around laughing. 

Oh I remember the Christmases, the thanksgivings, the fun times where they treated me with love. The gifts and the laughter made me smile. I had a walk in closet to store my many clothes and toys. I had so many stuffed animals I used to build a igloo and hide in it like a clubhouse. Then when I was so happy I would end up hugging a cute stuffed animal and the igloo would collapse. The cookies and oven s'mores, the sports my father would teach us, I hated football but basketball I could play forever! Basketball is my pride and joy, I didn't like teams though because you have to be on one team and face it you don't want to lose. I liked the basketball court to myself where I would play and practice shooting hoops. 

In school I would look at the basketball court wishing one day I would own one. I would grab a basketball and shoot hoops. I can spin a basketball on my finger and shoot the hoops backwards a few feet away. Baseball was dull to me, every other sport was but basketball will be forever awesome to me. 

Swimming was another favorite. Nobody taught me how to swim until I was twelve. Yet after I learned I now am like a mermaid when it comes to lakes, pools, the only place I haven't swam is the ocean. I have a fear of tides. I don't like ponds though. Murky and has a clay like bottom that goes in between your toes and gives you a creepy feeling. I wouldn't doubt if Godzilla came out of a pond. I couldn't tell you if my father was proud of me of any sport I tried but when he was a child he loved baseball. Me and my brothers visited my fathers school with him as the tour guide. The school was closed due to it being summer. I remember it so well, the sun shining through the windows like mirrors. When I would turn my long hair would spin along with the sun glistening through it making it a light hazelnut color. I loved the sun, anyway the school looked like a large log cabin with picnic benches around and a metal playground. Log buildings surrounded it and my father just stood there as if recalling his childhood. I couldn't imagine such a man like him as a child. I just saw him as a monster when I left my second childhood home. 

When I hit a home run on the baseball court he dashed over and hugged me, so proud and I sat there almost in tears because that will be a memory I will never forget. I sit in the car and just stare recalling all the memories that were less painful. Yet it was impossible. Them forcing baby food in my mouth and locking me in that high chair, a napkin to substitute as a bib. I remember running to the toilet and gagging from the food. My brothers saw their eight year old daughter in a playpen with plastic bottles surrounding her while their father threw them at her. How I would sit on the couch ignored and scowled at. I remember wanting to grab the steering wheel and wondering how I could get revenge on my father. I tried telling people about my father and my stepmother but the neighbors were those kind of neighbors that didn't even know what was going on in their life.

They would see me in overalls, seven years old at that walking over with determination to get myself out and back with my mother. A group of college kids who smoked cigarettes and a couple beers. I would stand there telling them everything and they would gap and ask me to come again tomorrow. Soon I saw it was to them a show. They were either too drunk, or too invested in their own lives to care about the little girl before them. My stepmother always would know. Opening the kitchen window she would shriek for me to come in. Inside I sat on the bottom step of the stairs while my stepmother drilled me on what did I say? Do I have to ruin this family's reputation? Why do I continue to lie when I'm treated so good? "Wait until your father hears about this.". 

It was on the tip of my tongue to fire back "I hope you go to hell." Something I heard from the movie I watched last night. My stepmother was religious she even had me baptized her religion. My mother didn't even have a say in it. She wanted me baptized Catholic but my stepmother wouldn't hear of it. I was baptized Methodist, a religion I knew nothing about. She had biblical sayings everywhere and biblical statues. I walked down that church aisle where brides and grooms walk and look around. I looked at the painted church windows with Jesus in the manger. I walked down that aisle wondering why religion was introduced to me back then that early. I didn't believe in God and miracles when I was that young because He saw me suffer such terrible things and couldn't he show me one miracle? I walked down the aisle at six years old with such a heavy chest because I truly believed I was a sinner. Someone who should burn in hellfire for eternity. Kirsten made that clear all the time and so did my father. 

My mother soon had to leave. I watched in tears as far below from the window my mother was in tears holding onto my other grandparents. Now that the drama was out of the room I was ignored again. There I sat on the window ledge in my white lace dress with purple ribbons my mother bought for me. Suddenly I saw my stepmother stand in front of me with a satisfied smile on her face. "See Alyssa? I was right." 

She continued "That lie you told when you were four caused this. Everybody knows. You sinned when you were four by lying. Perhaps God will have little mercy on your soul. Your mother is never going to see you again." Then she left. I wanted to scream so badly I clenched my fists until they were white as stone and my knuckles hurt. Anger and confusion erupted deep inside. I cried on that window ledge wondering if only I could go into my past and tell that four year old me that I shouldn't have told the lie. My stepmother gathered her friends into the kitchen and continued to talk to them. Her voice as shrill as a parrots. When I was little I didn't believe in god, because He would not let me suffer for as long as I did. I felt like a prisoner with chains on my ankles and my father behind me kicking me and treating me like a dog. 

I saw a episode of Law and Order where a pretty detective gathered a girl in her arms that looked just like me. The girl curled up from the cold with a blanket around her while the detective placed her in the mother's arms. The mother hasn't seen her daughter in a long time. I wanted to reach into that screen, grab the actress who played that detective and plead with her to take me to Hollywood. Take me home. 

A social worker once visited. My father talked to her and the social worker saw the perfect home and she saw the crib. "Alyssa, is well taken care of. Plenty of food, toys and we are perfect parents. No other parent can compare." He said. 

I peeked and saw the social worker nodding and smiling. "Well as long as she has a roof over her head and food in her stomach then there is no reason to investigate." 

"I don't see any reason to anyway." My father said grinning like a shark. My stepmother wrapped her arms around him and grinned too. My father after closing the door chased me through the house demanding how did my "retarded ass find a social worker?" I was placed in the high chair again and he kept demanding but in the end I found out it was my older sister who did at the time when she visited and saw what horror this house had been hiding. 

I wanted my father to at least see I was trying everything I could to impress him. I would clean the house, give him multiple hugs which he ignored like always. I saw him hug the boys and praise them as if they were perfect children. He and Kirsten were so cruel that my older brother Michael saw and felt pity. He would find me in the crib, help me out and comfort me. I would cry in his arms because of my sore back from my father throwing me in the crib and the bottles he threw. I was so traumatized I trembled and was speaking incoherent. I would be forced to sit in the corner with a football helmet while my father beat me above the head like a drum. Kirsten would watch, laughing while she watched dishes for it was in the kitchen. I would sit in the corner just wanting to no longer exist. Michael walked me to school and when the snow plow didn't go through the street he would pull me in the sled. 

As the car drove up that dirt road with the many bumps and miles of secretive woods I held my breath wanting to cry, yet I didn't. I had to be brave. This might be my chance to finally convince my father i was good. My grandfather was an auto body repairman who had a stern face but could transform into a smile. In his mid fifties he had bronze hair that curled behind his ears. He had large glasses that were in the shape of circles. He was so proud to be a repairman he had his own custom t-shirts, he had his own garage with a odd looking attic and a large sandpit. The sandpit is flooded with cars and there was a cliff behind it. Not any ordinary cliff but a 16 foot cliff with thorns at the bottom and sharp rusted tools. There was a cave in the center that was never explored. I told my grandfather who joked and said "Oh yeah that where Big Ole Bear lives." He chuckled. They denied it was a cave but when you can see icicles on top melting and dripping on the floor with a tiny echo you know it's a cave. It was the most beautiful and oddest piece of land I ever saw. I yearned to call a scientist or geologist to explain how glaciers created such a land. 

My father drives up to the red hexagon house with weeds along it like a moat. He gets out of the car and unlocks the trunk. He purposely threw my clean comforter onto the dirt driveway that loops around a acre of the front yard that connects to the gravel driveway and garage on the right. There I stood smelling the pines and looking around my new home. I look at the steep hill that starts at the bottom of the house and at the top another hill where the woods are. A wooden swing set decorates it one my father used to swing on. I walk slowly my feet crunching on the gravel and I head into the sandpit. The smell of burnt metal, and burnt wood reaches my nose. The sandpit stood before me with the cliff and the incredibly steep hills. Cars of all sort sat abandoned neatly in rows. Blackberry bushes twined around one car completely and the pathway for trailers and trucks was at the end. The cliff was a light grey today. Suddenly I hear a car door slam and a car engine start. Peeking through a rusty colored window I see my fathers car driving away. No... This wasn't the plan I hoped for at all! 

Running through the sandpit I bolt for the trailer path screaming for him. My feet dig into the soft sand and I watch as he speeds faster. I screamed loudly my throat begins to feel sore. He's going back to that despicable stepmother! I reach the entrance to the road but I trip and sand meets my face with sharp pebbles beginning to dig in my skin. I see the shards of sharp glass just inches from me. My eyes widen and my heart races in fear. Looking up at the road I look at the old dirt road before me. My throat tightens and no words can come out of my mouth. 

He was gone. Not even a goodbye. Grabbing sand I throw it as hard as I can. I collapse onto the ground tears streaming down my cheeks. "This isn't happening. No. No. He has to come back." I mutter but it's obviously not going to happen. He's going back for my stepmother and his precious, caring sons! He chose his stepsons over his own blood. All because my stepmother forced him to do it.  

I hated them so much my blood felt like it was about to boil. I hated my father for treating me like this! Like I was nothing. Yet I paused my thoughts and imagined God would want me to think kindly of my father. He did give me life. Even though I wished it was some other man who appreciated me more. 

I looked around, steep tall hills of earth that reminded me of cliffs the way the overgrowth grew an inch over with no support. It all lined up from the steep hill behind the house. It starts four feet then higher until it meets the Mother of all cliffs. I looked at the earth which was so dry it crumbled in my hands like dust. No flowers, all flowers died here except in the first where they thrived. At the bottom of the earth was the sandpit which was man made. Beach sand ten times hotter and mixed with glass and charcoal. Mason jars smashed and broken, rusted tin cans some that had the date stamped on them. Old food cans that were cracked and had disgusting smells. Alan truly honored his junkyard he called his home. I walked over to the bonfire pit. 

A huge black pile that smelled musky, and wind swept up the ashes. Burnt everything laid in that pile, bones were thrown in from old dinners, sometimes I found bullet shells halfway buried in the ashes. The garage showed complete neglect and looked like it would collapse any day. I looked at the garage where Alan had added another part which rose to an odd looking attic. The attic had a four by ten feet window with no glass, if you looked up from the hills you could see moldy cardboard boxes and bird crap covering them. Alan swore that owls loved it there...and I didn’t doubt it. 

When people sold their cars Alan kept the belongings that was in the car. It didn’t matter if it was trash, he considered it collection. My grandfather wasn’t all that innocent either from the world. During the Vietnam War He was drafted. He dodged the draft, moved here to isolate himself and would boast about it proudly. He “didn’t want to fight in a useless war.” My other grandfather considered Alan’s crimes disgusting for he fought in that war. 

I felt my feet were burning from the heatwaves in the sand and ground. I take off my shoes and socks. My grandfather had warned me before about taking my socks off but I didn’t care. I plunged my feet deep in the sand and suddenly I was screaming in pain. Lifting my trembling red feet i see they are beet red and my feet are trembling. Kirsten didn’t care for callous and thought was unladylike for “her daughter.” So she would scrub my callous off. The pain slowly goes away and I limp painfully around trying not to cry. I use my anger to strengthen me. The pain soon goes away and I tighten all my muscles and walk with each step no longer limping. My feet are throbbing but I tighten my teeth and will myself to show them I will suffer no more. 

 I look around and think about rebelling. I think about ways to make this sandpit neat and tidy but sadly I heard this was filled with cars since 1973. I look around, the cars are not that cared for. Junk in between each car and rusty tools. Broken windows with glass half buried in the sand which I cringed from. Children's toys strewn around from the past owners of cars where animals took them out. A wagon that was so rusted it showed holes. I bite my lip as I look at the cliff. The bottom of the cliff was filled with rusted trailer parts that stuck out between bushes. Small trees made it look beautiful like something out of a fantasy novel. 

There was this one son of Alan’s a stepson names Heath. He hated Alan to the core. Heath got in trouble with the law and punched holes in walls. Alan ignored the boys mostly and focused so much on his car business. Heath had an idea, he went to the back of the garage and worked on a nice car he said was for a school project. Alan thought it was a good idea and one way to get Heath distracted from crime. One day Heath went to the sandpit where the car was. Alan was admiring his cars when all of a sudden a loud roar and Heath was all for it. He went 80mph in that sandpit, drifting and sped towards the dirt road, Alan dodged the car and watched as Heath drove away cheering and shouting happily. He sped down the road and caused dirt clouds to form. He sped to the end of the road and went on the main highway. Alan shocked called the state police who chased Heath but Heath added mileage. 

He crossed the state line and kept driving. Towards freedom of rebellion, to this day I imagine my uncle still speeding down that road screaming with happiness and shocking My grandfather. Neighbors still swear to this day they remember that day like it was yesterday.  Heath made it to Virginia where he started a new life and finally found hope for a new life. His escape worked and he has been considered a sort of legend on carman brook road. Alan was a grenade full of anger but Heath was like a nuke that struck that road. 

I take a deep breath. This will be my fantasy world. It will be my beach by the Atlantic, It can be China, or even Australia! In class we used to read books about different countries. I liked the countries that had stars on the flag. I will escape my nightmares and come here. No one visited here except to set things on fire. There was a recent explosion a month ago. One that forced papa to take all the engines out of the cars and gas containers. One night he and my father had a enormous fire. A car was five feet from it when a little bit of gas leaked from the engine and a tiny ember caught the gas line. Luckily I was not there but I can only imagine it went like this; 

The flames suddenly turned blue as the tiny line reached the car. It lit the underside of the car and suddenly the laughing turned to shrieks as the poor car lifted four feet high and a large mushroom cloud shot up high. It was huge too. The car was filled to the maximum of gas. My father and my grandfather ran and hid behind two cars when it happened. My father was too close and was thrown back a few feet. He passed out from shock and instead of worrying about his son My grandfather looked at his cars. If the state would hear of this, his business would be gone. They waited until the next day and pushed the burnt skeleton into some bushes. My grandfather went over to the neighbors and told them that it was a accidental fire accident. My father came home that day his eyes still haunted by the explosion. He didn't say much just said he helped his father save the business. 

I walk over to the car that is so covered with thorns it is hard to see. It seems all of the Russell's secrets were hidden in the blackberry bushes. Thorns and leaves curled under the dashboard, the windows were a pale yellow and I wished that day my mother was here. She was yanked away from me and all I hear is she was bad. She wasn't though in court she fought to have me in her custody but the judge over ruled it when my father said she would not make a good mother, the judge granted my father custody until I turned eighteen and gave my mother a restraining order. I hated myself for it and ever since I could remember I was the one to blame for it. If I tripped, was pushed or bullied that would come up as a reminder. Sometimes I would want to scream so loudly at them. Yet I froze because I was always afraid. That was also because I always believed I was evil to lie like that. 

My grandmother Nancy called my name. I walk over there and see she is at the entrance of the house. She leads me inside. I walk in excited as she opens a door to my new room. My stepmother told me it was beautiful and all set with a beautiful bed. I walk in to an old shaped room with a good sized closet. The room couldn't have been more than ten feet by five feet. Due to the fact the main door led to the basement I could understand the cold concrete floor with tiny bits of pink faded rug. No bed, just a boys blanket on the left wall with a shelf of action figures and toys from the 1980s. These were my fathers old toys I knew it just by the initials at the bottom. The whole room was empty with two windows that I could tell was superglued shut because of the white paste slapped on the hinges and handles. 

A simple blue curtain decorated the Windows. My lip trembled as I looked at my new closet. Men's coats and boys jerseys were on hangers. My grandmother grinned at me and said "This used to be your fathers room and your uncle heath's. They were such good children." This room reminded me of a shrine. She took down the blanket and I saw a hole somebody from the past punched in. I looked at a action figure and picked it up. Nancy yanked it out of my hands. "Don't touch them! They were Tyler's." Whoever that was. Possibly a child who lived here. She took them all in one armful and walked away. She left one action figure though. A power ranger with my fathers initials faded on the bottom of the shoe. I kept it for myself.

I unpack my bags and find something surprising. A small globe that was given to me the day I was born. It was a baby angel holding a heart. I place it onto the window where the sun can greet it every morning. I'm surprised it didn't break the way my stepmother threw the bags into the truck. 

Now they are at home I bet. Eating a home cooked meal and being a perfect family. No daughter to burden their lives. Mike probably asked my father how I was and my father probably assured him I am in a loving home with a good sized room with w comfy bed. My stepmother grinning and saying how her church services went. A air mattress was brought in and I had a bed. Placing my one pillow on it I fall asleep. For once in my life I felt safe. For now. 

 Chapter 2; The Hostile Grandparents. 

As I awoke the sun shone in my face. I sat up and it took me a minute to remember how I got here. Why I'm here and to tell myself again it was my fault for lying when I was four. I checked the time. It was 6:30 my stomach demanded food so I headed upstairs. 

The living room looked like a second class home. England furniture with a mahogany coffee table and back doors near the spiral stairs. It reminded me of a hunters cabin. I saw Nancy's bird Polly still sleeping. It awoke by the creak of the stairs. It hissed at me and I rolled my eyes. The dining room was a tiny room connected to the living room with nothing separating it. The kitchen had a window with dolls of course on it. Nancy loved dolls and cute things. Walking quietly I knock on their door. In a few minutes my grandfather answered. His hair a mess and of course a shirt advertising his car business. 

"What?!" He said. 

"I'm hungry. Mike usually gives me a pop tart." I said. Sadly Mike was not here. My grandfather glared fiercely at me. "Go back to your room or do something I don't care. Just leave us be. We eat at ten usually." He said coldly and slammed the door. 

I never had that happen to me. My stomach was literally screaming for food and I looked outside. The sandpit had blackberries. I walk downstairs and open the main door. I walk down to the driveway and I see the window open and again I see my grandfather glaring at me. He moves away from the window and I hunt for food. I felt my heart race because I was scared of bears. My stomach didn't care. It wanted food NOW. I run into the sandpit and see no bears. Sighing in relief I find a handful of blackberries and eat the tangy fruit. My stomach half satisfied I quietly sneak upstairs and grab a couple slices of bread. I eat my meal and again head outside quietly and eat in the sandpit. The cliff had a beautiful gloom to it and I wished I had a camera. I was still in my clothes from yesterday. I watch as the clouds shift and shadows move away as the sun rose higher. Keeping my eyes out for bears I head up the steep hill to the woods. I place my hand on a small tree and sigh. I look out for any animals but then as dawn approached I heard the birds. One whistled and I whistled back. A chorus of birds answered back and I giggled. 

"Yoo-hoo!" I called my voice as tiny whisper but these birds could hear me. 

"Do-do!" A little bird answered back. I looked up at a pine tree and saw baby birds curiously looking at the sun. A crow soared through the sandpit and birds began to fly. Birds of all kind! Crows, Ravens, mockingbirds, bluejays, and cardinals! Such beautiful birds. The sun created shadows on the forest floor making it look aquatic. The wind soared and tiny branches fell all around. The sun made the clouds turn from a light pink to a soft peach then a baby blue. I could not stop smiling. For once I felt happy. 

I wanted to go home. Yet I can't because I have failed them. Mike and Nick must be at home doing their homework and curling up on the couch. While my father hugs my stepmother. No woods. No sixteen foot cliff they have to stay away from. No broken glass mixed with sand. No dangerous ponds or whatever a beaver dam was. I pick acorns and pinecones and head back down. I pluck the pinecones apart and watch as my new home begins to feel like home slowly. My hands sticky and smelling like sweet pine I look at the cliff. The sun is directly on it making it look a pale grey. The top of the cliff has weeds and trees a good distance away. The steep hill in the backyard connects and the steep hill rises quickly until it meets the cliff. I wish I could walk up to the cliff and collect rocks but that would be dangerous too. 

The thorns at the bottom of the cliff twined around delicately around rusty sharp objects, you can barely see the object. Small trees grow on each side making the cliff look like it was ancient. I look at it in awe. Oh if only it grew flowers to make it look less intimidating and deadly. I grab a rock and throw it at the cliff wondering what kind of sound it would make. Clack! And the rock fell down. I hold my breath and grow excited. Grinning I grab rocks and continue throwing them. That got boring and I headed back to the garage. My grandfather's garage is every mans dream. When you walked in on the right in a small rectangular room. An office on the right with a tiny desk. My grandfather didn't ever clean his garage. His office was covered in dust except a phone book, a phone, and a few pens. A 1980's women calendar was on the wall along with clippings of cars for sale. I could recognize some of the cars that are now in the sandpit getting old and rusty. A Beatles song called "Help." Played continuously on a small radio.  A billiard table was a few feet away with pool sticks leaned against the wall. A really nice billiard table I admit. I walked over grabbed a 8 ball and rolled it along the green felt. Humming along to the song I watch as my grandfather walks over to work on two cars that sit parked at the end of the room. He picks up a jack and walks over to the right back tire. He  picks up some tools and works on the car. He lifts up the tire and let's the pressure out slowly. He works on the flat tire while I just walk over and look. 

I hand him the tools and wipe them off with my overalls. I stand on the Jack while he works more on the tire rim. After he researches more in the phone book while I roll myself around on the rolling rack he uses to work under the cars. Curious I continued exploring the garage. On the right wall a doorless room led to a similar large room with a high ceiling. You can tell my grandfather didn't work here often. A empty room with bolts in the cement with long rusty chains connected. I look and see a steep wooden staircase that leads to the garage attic. The attic was a old one showing how very old the garage was. If you went outside you can see a very large window with no glass on the wall. It showed boxes literally soaked and not cared for. 

Only my grandfather goes up there. He doesn't allow anyone up there only him, if you mention the attic he tightens his jaw and changes the subject. I heard rumors that he and Nancy had personal items up there and Alan placed razor sharp saw and wire along the door so no one could sneak up there. Later on I found out that they locked all of their sons items up there as if they couldn't stand to look at them. Oh I would dare myself to climb up five steps so curious on why they didn't allow anyone up there. My grandfather then straightened up and said "You can play in there. I don't really work in there anyway. Just a bunch of dust and old items anyway. Just don't go up in that attic." 

"Papa, did my daddy ever help you work on any cars?" I asked. 

He scoffed. "No! Hell your father just would work on school projects and get into trouble. He didn't stay here long." 

 Chapter 3 A new beginning. 

The woods, a mysterious aura some might say. To me I felt safe in these woods, I would lay on the forest floor that was always soft and breathe in the air. A peace went over me and I felt like I was truly at home. The sway of the pines, the occasional owl who hoots and the squirrels. I was a descendant of the Abenaki tribe so I wondered if my ancestors ruled this land. My great grandmother was full blooded Abenaki. I can hear the forest calling my name, I can hear a bird from the top of the tree. Mother Nature took me under her wing to guard me with her animals and was that ever so true. Suddenly butterflies followed me wherever I went. If I walked somewhere a monarch butterfly would try and perch on my arm. Bees never stung me and I one time had a bumblebee fly on my jacket as I walked to my house. 

It was my bedtime but my grandfather walked in and said "Come in the sandpit. Your father wants you." I could hear my fathers yelling and laughter. I followed my grandfather down the path to the sandpit. I looked at the stars I love very much and I knew it was time to tell my father how much I wanted him here. The crunch of gravel sounded under my sandals. How would I greet him? I would run and jump in his arms because he wanted me to be safe. I would hug him and say "I love you daddy." Something I longed to say forever. No.. I should  help him with the cars. If only I knew what was about to happen. My grandfather walked close behind me and if I paused he would push softly on my back to keep me walking. I saw my father standing before me in front of the fire pit. A large pile stood before it. Alan put his strong hands on my shoulder and made me watch my father grab the matches. "Watch." Alan said. I looked at my father and he said "This is to teach you not to lie anymore. Make sure she watches too." 

My grandfather tightened his grip on my shoulders. I looked at my father why did he want me to look at wood burning? What did this have to do with me lying four years ago..?

The sandpit was drastically cold. I could see my breath and goosebumps went up my spine. Be brave. Be brave. I thought. My father stood before a dark pile of...wood? I watched as he dropped a match onto the strange pile. The flame turned a bright blue covering the pile in a fiery blanket. He must have doused it in gasoline. I walk further for something told me it wasn't wood.  Yet I stopped and looked at the bonfire pit. The fire was roaring and crackling. All of my possessions, my teddy bears, my diaries, my bed set, even my necessary items were being tossed into the fire. I stood there wanting to scream as I saw what they did next. My father continued to throw them in and the fire turned them into ash or melted plastic. He laughed wildly as if it were great fun. I raced forward but Mike my brother appeared from the truck. He saw me in front of the fire watching all of my things being burned. I yelled for him. 

"Stop them! Stop them! Mike!" I screeched. "Stop them!" My heart racing I ran to the truck banging on it hard until my knuckles hurt. I saw my brother on the verge of tears. He refused to look my way. He couldn't have known. He would have stopped my father. I looked at my father who looked at me with satisfaction on his face. I never hated him so much in my life. I wanted to push him into the fire. All my things from my loving mother were gone. I sat on my haunches staring at the fire with tears streaming down my cheeks.

My brother Mike he stepped forward and watched the fire he placed his hand on my shoulder and said "I'm sorry...I-I...am so sorry sis. I didn't know if..." He sees my tears streaming down my cheeks and sees that I needed to be alone. He didn't know how to comfort me and walks away. I am so close to the fire I can feel the intense heat and realize again I failed. How could I be so stupid?! My father betrayed me again. 

I looked at the fire and walked away. Walking down the short path to the house with tears streaming down my cheeks. My chest felt so heavy as if filled with rocks. My shoulders were no longer in that perfect posture my stepmother taught me. I smelled like ash and sweat. I slammed the door shut and went on my bed. The last thing I remember that night is my grandfather walking in and saying. 

"Your father says goodnight and he loves you." Then he closed the door and left. How coldly he said it too.  

I fell asleep yet not that well. I had nightmares it was me in that fire. The next morning I ran out there heading towards the fire pit and sandpit. Then I stopped. Looking down I saw the new ash and the smell of plastic. The bed had turned into a twisted and burned metal spring set. I knelt down in the fire pit and dug through the ashes. Then I walked out and grabbed rocks from all directions. Cursing my heart out and screaming angrily I throw them at the cliff as hard as I can. Cursing out my stepmother for even remotely thinking this was a good place for me. Wanting to never see my father again! I hate this place! I hate my life. I hate being hurt again and again. My father and stepmother are living perfect lives now and everybody must think their sons are perfect. Did they have a little girl? No, she is the families secret. She is living in the woods on a dirt road and her father just burned everything they owned. Did they have a daycare anymore? No because that was another secret! We just made a daycare so we would have a high chair and crib to make fun of her. Didn't the little girl tell the neighbors your secret? Oh no! We love all of our children and we had to get rid of a problem to protect our sons. Don't worry she is in a loving home. Perhaps I can go peacefully...no more pain. 

I walk up the steep hill into the woods. I sit and lean against a birch tree. I couldn't escape because these woods could go for miles. My father told me flatly that he knew every trail and if I did anything stupid he could find me. My fist curls onto soft moss as I look at the rising sun. I don't realize I am crying until my face is soaked. I rushed down and saw the fire pit. All cold ash but still I turned my hands into claws and dug. Grabbing sticks I dig possibly through two previous bonfires until I give up. My hands covered in soot I scream loudly causing birds to flutter in the trees. I crumble into a mess with sand all over my face and I wipe it away angrily. I sob violently until I am literally choking. I hated crying, I'm eight years old and shouldn't be yet I do because I have every reason. My books I loved, my mother sent me beautiful things but Kirsten would tear off the gift tab bearing her name and write hers instead. Kirsten. What I wouldn't give to see her go to hell. 

Nobody came to see who screamed. I see that even here I don't exist. I look at all the rusty cars with no engines in them. This was God punishing me for being a sinner. Kirsten was right. I am going to hell. That stupid lie I had to tell was thrown back in my face again. 

I looked at the cliff. Maybe it was my chance to make a right decision. I walked up the steep hill and saw it was still a good distance away from the top. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let my father and grandfather see they won. I looked at the cliff and the sun making it look a sidewalk grey. The trees turned into a gold color when the sunset turned into the the sun. How could something so dangerous look so lovely at the same time? I walked up closer and soon all I would have to do is climb the second hill into the woods and walk ten feet left on the top. The feeling was so numbing I wanted to cry. Warm winds began tempting me to do this. To finally be free from all my pain. Something stops me and perhaps it was god himself.  "No!" I tell myself. "Screw them! I will live!" Then I walked down the hill and sat in the sandpit again. I let myself cry it out and I clutched my knees to my chest and wished this was a bad dream. I even pinched myself to see if this was true. It was and I'm facing the reality. I play with the sand and let it go through my hands making pretty designs. 

Other children woke up with delicious breakfasts by their bed and loving parents greeting them with hugs and kisses. Their parents packing lunch for school and the kids got to be with friends and trade secrets. The closest thing I had to a friend was the stars and the sun. I gave it the nickname "Sunny." Because I believed the sun was a girl who always made beautiful things and always gave me beautiful days. The stars gave me a sense on how beautiful things are and how lovely it sounded. The stars I love very much. Other children had it perfect compared to me. While a child awoke looking at happy things in their room, I had just a fire pit that destroyed everything of mine. I look at the sand pit I had to think of something. There had to be something to get me out of here... I dashed around looking at the cars, through the broken dirty windows looking for keys. Not a chance. All the sharp glass was on the drivers seat glittering in the sunlight. Damn it! I look at the car batteries stacked along the tall wall of the garage. 

Yanking one down I look at the dusty car battery. Numbers and words in white were on the top. I see my loving grandfather had clipped the green and red wires. I look and see that three others were around. All of them the wires were clipped neatly. I don't know why I picked up the car batteries. Perhaps they would of worked a long time ago but I knew nothing about cars except men liked them and would grin whenever a new car model was out. I look and see that the sandpit was in a odd place. The wilderness had claimed it. Birds flew everywhere and new coyote tracks were everywhere. I saw that the tall pine trees made the sand pit look small. Thorny vines covered cars and grass began to grow near the edges of the sand pit. No matter what you can't destroy mother natures land. 

I venture more. Grabbing a tall branch and snapping it above my knee I sharpen it on a stone. Dipping it in the warm ashes to make it sharper. No bear will attack me now I twirl it around like a baton and head for the southern woods. The southern woods dipped sharply into the direction of the ponds and ravines. Leaves covered the forest floor making it look like forever autumn. I feel free suddenly and dash forward giggling and feeling so happy. Free as I run and seem to soar like a butterfly the woods gave me my wings. Laying on the forest floor I look at the sky where the top of trees make it look like a kaleidoscope. I venture more and hold my spear in anticipation of bears. None the forest looked and felt so empty. I continue exploring until I hit the dirt road again and see the evil house again. I head back in the house to realize I spent two hours in those woods. No one asked where I was. I wasn't even greeted. I head up through the backyard and see the small sandpit. It basically looked like a large missile or meteor hit it. It was a huge massive five foot deep hole that looked man made, later on my grandfather explained that in the 1980's he tried to make a pond but the water evaporated leaving him with a second sandpit. "I just don't understand why it turned into a second sandpit. I would like a geological expert to come here and take soil samples. No other mountain has this oddity," 

I walked downstairs the cold concrete chilling my bare feet. I walk into my tiny room and look around. No TV, not even books yet. All I had was boys toys from the 1980s and 1970's. I look at my hands which have soot under my nails I go and scrub that off. The bathroom upstairs was scrubbed clean and always organized. Not a cobweb in sight. The bathroom across the hall available to me was the opposite. 

The shower walls were the color of urine and cobwebs hung everywhere. The sink was a tiny bit clean but the toilet didn't look the least bit sanitary. I felt vomit climb up my throat and thought of how much my father is gloating now that his nuisance was gone out of his life. I looked at the mirrors reflection and saw a 8 year old girl with short hair looking back with deep circles under her eyes, purely haunted. I taught myself at a very young age to appreciate anything I were given. I had the woods, I had the sand pit, if they made me feel any worse...there was a deadly cliff I could climb up. It takes a lot for a family to make a child so depressed. My grandfather went to work in the garage and my grandmother continued chatting like a baby bird who discovered flying. I sat on the sofa while she told me stories about her sons. How one of her sons stole a car out of the sand pit and had to be chased by the police and charged with grand auto theft. How they would run around the sandpit smashing car windows. 

"Hopefully, you won't do those things." She said. "You just have to remember you did lie when you were four. Look what you caused to happen." 

I glare at her fiercely. Apparently no matter where I go I won't be able to escape what I did when I was four. Not even here. 

"I'm sorry, nana." I said. She scoffed. 

"Well you should be. Caused the whole family to split up." She shook her head and sighed her long hair following her looking like silk ribbons. 

Life continued. A month went by and visitors would visit, some family who didn't really acknowledge me. Neighbors would visit for a while and they had to of been told about me. "That Sheri's daughter?" My grandfather nodded sharply. 

"She looks just like Sheri. Except for the eyes. The teeth too." One said. 

"You know why she is here?" My grandfather asked. 

"No." One replied. "You should be happy." 

"She lied. That girl lied when she was four. Four! Ruined her whole life and her fathers too. Now Sean and Kirsten didn't know what to do with her so they have passed custody to me. When she leaves here she will never ruin anybody's life again. We have found a effective way to have her listen." Alan said proudly. 

They gave him questioning looks but he shrugged. Soon they found out what the punishment was and didn't really visit anymore. Who would want to visit where mad men ruled? Especially when they burn somebody's stuff and force them to watch. I look at the dirt road and wonder if that's got a history too. Maybe this road belonged to a large town. It would make sense because of the corn and wheat growing at the fields below the mountain. I went to my grandfather asking if anything on this road had history. He grinned and talked about how famous his car business was in the past. He didn't bother telling me the cost of owning a auto body shop because I was too young to understand, he looked at the garage and said "This road is a dead end. It should be covered in tar but sadly it is too expensive. Speaking of bumpy roads, I want you to be careful biking. Too many pot holes, I would cover them but it's illegal. When you bike down the hill I don't want you to exert yourself. Your young and I can tell you don't have much muscle on the legs, when you live here your body will get used to it. Cold weather too is harsh here."A boy older than me named little Barry lived here and they spoiled him rotten. He was given a $500.00 bike, a room with a large bed. A desk and shelves full of toys. His room was painted blue and my grandfather had cable downstairs where Barry could go downstairs and watch cartoons. I was forbidden to go in that room, I couldn't touch a toy on the shelf and the door was always shut. The tv was unplugged so I couldn't watch Tom and Jerry which was my favorite show. I couldn't ride on the four wheeler because it was meant for boys and men. No one dare to speak badly of Barry because you will get your ass handed to you. Barry was the true king in that house. I was so jealous when he came over and I was ignored while they showered him with love. While my grandmother prepared for his royal highness to come she twittered acting again like a bird. 

I had a bed that was less comfy than a army cot. It was as comfy as a bench. It had no mattress and was clearly taken off a tool bench. I watched a my grandfather walked in with eight milk crates stacked them so half was on each side stacked on two. He laid the bed and handed me one tiny pillow. I watched as he left and I looked at my new "bed." The mattress was thinner than my finger and I forced myself to be grateful. Even though I wished I could steal King Barry's bed.

I ventured outside and went to the border of the woods. The tall trees ranged from all different types. Pine, Birch, Oak, Willow, baby trees. Walking further in awed by the beauty of these woods I place my hand on a baby pine tree as it nestled against my small hand and then it happened. As if an explosion rocked the earth the trees blew in the strong winds as it whistled beautifully. Leaves blew in all directions and I look up expecting a giant to appear. The wind slows to a warm breeze and I find myself sitting on the forest floor stunned and feeling so free. What were these woods? Were they magical? I wanted to become a bird and spread my wings and fly into these woods and find out where the woods ended. The wind blows again and I hoist myself on a log quickly with the help of a baby tree and raise my hands to feel the wind between my fingers. The wind blew stronger almost knocking me over as I saw the leaves stir in whirlpools of air. I am not scared, I am loving this. I was loved here, and that made me feel so happy.