“Is it so hard to believe that I am telling the truth? “The words burst from my lips, echoing into the suddenly silent room. My family stared at me. No one answered, just stared, like I was nothing more than a bug to be studied, and then squashed. Maybe they thought I was now, some filthy creature to be taken out and disposed of, ignored for the rest of the short lifespan God allotted me. Seconds had passed, and yet silence still reigned over the room.

“ Of course it is!! How could you accuse me of, of, of what you accused me of?!” My stepfathers face reflected anguish, disappointment, and most of all disbelief, as he broke the stifling silence. He let out a short burst of air, and ran a hand through his hair.

“ I would never, ever, do to someone what you say I did. If you want attention, Sara, there are better ways of getting it!”

His eyes met mine, his green, to my brown, And I saw the warning clearly. Either I ended this, or he would.

After 3 years of his sick abuse I had broken the silence that killed my soul. It had been my nightly prayer to have the strength to tell, and when I did… No one believed me. I felt betrayed, a knife stuck in my back by my family, who turned their faces to the table in front of them, unable to meet my eyes. Why didn’t they believe me? I was their daughter, niece, and sister. My mother, her sister, and my older brother sat at the table. None of them, not one, believed me. My nightmares came true in that instant. And also in that instant, I made up my mind. “Fine. Fine, don’t believe me. See how much I care.” My last words were a empty threat. I cared, and they knew it. If I hadn’t, tears would not be streaming down face, my chin would not tremble, and my mind whirl. I turned away from them, and went to my room, sure of what would happen now. They would ignore me, and tonight, they would get the best present they ever received.

“Sara! Get down here!!” Sara’s mother called up the stairs. So far she had been ignored. “I’m not telling you again!!” Still, the white door at the top of the stairs did not open. The poster of Legolas what-its-name did not move.

“If you don’t get down here in ten seconds, I’m coming in there!” Sara’s mother silently counted down under her breath, then, anger taking a firm hold, she stomped up the stairs and flung open the white door. And screamed.

Sara lay onthe floor of her room, herbrown eyesopen and blank, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Blood pooled on either side of her from slashed wrists. Her mother ran to her and screamed for her daughter to wake up, even though she knew she never would. Her body was limp, and cold, and as she lifted her daughters by the shoulders, her sister ran in, a phone in her hand. Tears formed in her mother's eyes and spilled over, but Sara did not feel them as they fell on her pale, white cheeks. She would never feel anything again.