Sitting in the chair watching Beverly Hills 90210, I glanced up and noticed it was 9:45pm and my mom would be home soon. I went to my safe place, my room. I put my Madonna cassette in my pink boom box and I curled up in my comforter and tried to do my homework but instead I drifted off into a dream.
Crashing through my dream was an angry tone, “KELLY – were are you?” my mother slammed the door open and pulled me out of my bed by my hair.
She began to slap me from cheek to cheek and harm me with every nasty word you could imagine. She accused me of horrible things, things that were not close of being true.
My mother continued with the hurtful expressions, every word cutting deeper and deeper into my memory, every remark wounding my soul. I closed my eyes and prayed that she would hit me harder and not say anything. At least the bruises and welts would heal and go away.
“You’ve ruined my life, I can’t wait unit you move out and let me have my life back. I can’t even look at you, I’m leaving to Larry’s Tavern.” with one last strike she left, I slid downward to the floor and began to sob.
I went into the bathroom and I screamed at my reflection, “Your mother’s right, your ugly and worthless… You stupid – stupid girl!”
I prayed for courage to end the pain as I positioned the razor against my wrist. With tears flowing down my face, I placed the razor down and picked up the phone and called my only friend. “Jen I can’t do this, I totally don’t want to live, I can’t deal anymore.”
“Kelly… listen to me, you can do this and you will survive this.”
Her voice was comforting, yet the razor had a welcoming end to the pain, “I don’t deserve to live, I want to die”
“Do you have your bible?” she asked
My tears were chocking every word as I finally squeezed, “Yea”
“Open it to Deuteronomy 31:6 and we will read the passage together, ok?”
Together we read, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” We repeated this passage until the tears stopped and I felt a small amount of peace.
I would call Jennifer weekly and sometimes nightly. For two years she helped me see that God loved me, and that I would make it through my teen years.
Twenty years has passed and like most high school friends, we lost contact with one another. Every Sunday that I go church or when I hold my bible in my hands, I thank God for sending one of his angels to me and for helping me survive those dark years.
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