A/N This is my second story, hope you like it! PLEASE read it and review. You know how..... hopefully. If you don't, you have issues.

My life

I stared out the window looking at birds flying though the trees. I lived on the first story in an apartment in Idaho.

"Alice get in here and eat," yelled my uncle from the dinning room. He always yells.

"Alice stay away from that window! I don't want you getting sick! We don't want to pay for another hospital bill." My aunt yelled at me. I slowly left the window seat and walked into the dinning room.

Ever since I was born I was a very sick child. My first breaths of life were a struggle. But when I was four, my world ended. My parents and I were moving to Washington for medical purposes. I remember my parents smiling at me from the front seat. I even remember the headlights on the wrong side of the road. I was launched out of the car with my car seat still buckled to me. I lifted my head just barely enough out of the cold March snow to see my parents explode in the car.

No. No! NO! I refuse myself to think of that. I sat down in my usually seat and began to poke at my food. I had lost my apatite.

"Alice eat your cauliflower." my aunt told me. If you were to look at my aunt you would never think she was a strict person. She has a soft, gentle face with blond hair and bright blue eyes. My uncle on the other hand was intimidating. He has dark hair with even darker eyes.

"I'm not hungry."

"Alice if you don't eat something I'm going to shove it down your throat." I picked up my fork and stabbed a carrot. "That's better. Sam how was work?" she said in a sweet calm voice.

"Fine." My aunt always talked softer to my uncle than to me. She's even my mothers sister and she still treats me like crap. I swirled and twirled my food around my plate. Every once in a while I would pick something up and put into my mouth when I caught my aunt looking my way. She never looked at me. She was either grimacing, glaring, or looking at me with a fire of hatred. She knew I knew she hated me.

My uncle stood up to take is plate to sink. I copied him. He dropped the plate in the sink and pushed me out of his way. I dropped my plate, which shattered, and fell into the wall where I knocked down the pans on the hooks above. The pans hit me in the head. Now these weren't cheep pans, these were expensive cast iron pans. I was going to have a bump on my head tomorrow.

"Alice! You are so clumsy! I want your plate picked up! For your punishment you will be cleaning this kitchen until I can see everything shine and It had better be done before mourning!" My Aunt bounded over to me. She raised her hand as if to slap me.

"Dear she has school tomorrow. If she has a bruised hand print on her face the teachers will get suspicious."

"You're right." She grabbed a knife, took my hand and slid it across the blade. Blood gushed from my palm. My Aunt laughed and lead my Uncle to their room. I was never allowed in their room.

I stood up and put my hand under the faucet. The water stained red went down the drain. I grabbed a paper towel and wrapped it around my hand. I walked into the bathroom and found some cotton and a wrap for my hand. Any money I could possibly get was spent on medical supplies. This wasn't unusual behavior for my Aunt. Sometimes she's much worse. I was surprised she didn't take one of the pans and bash me about the head until I collapsed. I would have woke up a couple hours later with a major head ache and then quietly clean the kitchen. If I didn't she might do worse.

Once my hand was wrapped I grabbed a rag from the closet. I worked on the broken dish first. I even cut my finger on the glass. I went back to the bathroom and got a band-aid. I was running low. I'm going to have to try and earn some.

The only way I could earn money is by helping my neighbor. She's a sweet old women who is fairly generis. I get her a newspaper and she gives me five dollars. She knows my Aunt and Uncle don't like it when I get money from her so she'll sneak it to me. One time she even tried climbing up the fire escape to get it to me through my window. She doesn't do that anymore, now she sends her grandson or the little boy across the hall.

I checked the clock in the living room on my way back to the kitchen. Eleven-thirty. I had to hurry up if I'm going to be able to get up in the mourning. Normally I would get up make breakfast and walk down a couple floors to Mrs. Carter. She's my home school teacher. My Aunt heard that home schooled kids have social problems. Well too late for that. I'm already social dysfunctional. I'm so shy its not even funny. I have to admit I'm even scared of people.

After gruesome work the kitchen finally was finished. The soft cream colored walls were spotless along with the glass cupboards. The kitchen wasn't severely messy but enough was to be done that I finally trudged off to my room at two in the mourning.

The walls of my room were the only ones in the entire apartment that were white. A dull boring white. My aunt designs rooms for a living, but she never has time, or even cares enough, to paint my room. My bed spread is the only color in my room at all. Everything else was white. My bed spread was my own personal ocean. With hues of blues, purples, whites, blacks, and even some green the bed seemed to be made out of water itself. The bed spread was one of the very few things I have left of my parents, that my aunt and uncle haven't taken from me. But I'm sure if I were to go into their bed room I would find many of my parents possessions.

After my parents died. I was shipped off to my only other relatives. All of my family's possessions went with me. My aunt and uncle searched through everything keeping the stuff they wanted and selling everything else. I watched sadly from the sidelines as all my toys, the pictures hanging in the living room, and many more precious items that got sold to total strangers. There were only a few things that I nicked out of the for sale pile, my bed spread included.

My parents even had a small fortune which was paying for my medical bills. My aunt and uncle went googly-eyed when they saw it. After that I never heard anything about the money until I was ten and needed a major surgery. The doctors came in to my room at the children's hospital and asked my uncle if they had the cost of the surgery in hand. My relatives said that they didn't have any money at all.

I was about to say something, when my aunt kicked me hard in the shin. That was the beginning of my abusing. When ever I stepped out of line, I was beaten. When ever I complained about anything, I was beaten. When ever I said something to give away that I was being beaten, I was beaten nearly to death. One time my uncle threw down the stairs in our apartment building that I had to crawl back up the stairs and nurse myself back to health, because my aunt and uncle wouldn't take me to the hospital. They said, 'The doctors will get suspicious and might call the police. Then you would have to go to a orphanage and stay there for the rest of your life!'

I grabbed my pillow and hugged it tightly. Tomorrow I was going to be starting school. The grip on my pillow loosened as I fell asleep. Tomorrow I was to ride the bus with strangers who have been in there in school with other student all their life. I was to be the freaky home schooled girl with bruises up and down her arms.

I began to cry. It was the only time I allowed myself to cry. I was alone and no one cared about a girl who was being beaten and abused day and night just as long as it doesn't happen to them. I thought of my parents, they would have never allowed this to happen. If they were still alive I would have been fast asleep by now. I wouldn't be sitting here on my bed with my hand bandaged up crying.