Survival

Survival(Rhiannon MacLeod) “Samantha! Where is your kit?”As usual, I had forgotten it. They just don’t get the fact that I don’t want to do PE, they also don’t know the reason. “Right, well you will have to borrow someone else’s. Does anyone have a spare kit that Samantha can borrow?” Miss Moore asked the class. “No? No-one has anything? Okay I will have to go check lost and found for you.” Everyone’s eyes were on me. They all knew I kept to myself and wouldn’t take part even if I was made to. “Here you go! Go on! You have 5 minutes to get ready then meet us in the gym hall!”Miss Moore hated me so much, but I don’t blame her.
I always hated getting undressed and seeing myself. It’s not because I’m fat or anorexic skinny. I hate my body because of my marks. Ever since my mum died 4 years ago, I have been abused by my dad. So when Miss Moore gave me shorts and a vest for a kit, I couldn’t go out. No one had ever seen my bruises or scars.
“Miss, are there any other tops or some trackies in the lost and found?” inside I was dying. I knew what would happen if I had to go out like this. “No, Samantha! You will wear what you’re given!” She was shouting now. All the girls heard and were watching to see why I didn’t want to wear what I was given.
“But Miss! Please? Please just check...” I was begging now and she could see the tears in my eyes.
“My office, now Samantha! And don’t get changed yet!” Oh god. If she see’s she will ask questions. Deep breath Sammi, just lie, you can do this.
As I walked into Miss Moore’s office, I could tell she noticed my marks by her face.
“Oh my god, Samantha, what happened? You can tell me...” No, I really can’t. She has no idea what she is doing. She will just make things worse. “Sam...”
“Its fine Miss,nothing really, I’m just clumsy!”
“Samantha, who did this?” I could tell she was getting serious now. She was worried, I could tell from her eyes and the face she was making. She did want to help, but she doesn’t know that if she tries, she might get me killed.
“No-one Miss! It’s fine, really.” No, why won’t she just leave me alone! If she tries to do anything about this she will just make it worse. Not just for me, but for her as well.
“Samantha, this wasn’t an accident. The bruises, the one on your arm, it’s a hand mark. Someone did this, and I’m here to help. You need to tell me, I’m afraid I might have to phone home, see if your parents know about this, or even call the police if it’s that serious.”
“No! You’ll make it worse! There nothing you can do to help. LEAVE ME ALONE!” Calm down Sammi, you’re screaming. “Please Miss, just leave It.”
“Samantha, sit down, I need to talk to you about this! I’m getting head of guidance to come and talk to you about it. Samantha! Come back! SAMANTHA!” There’s nothing I could do. Miss Moore had taken it too far, I had to run away. Run away from Miss Moore, from the school, from my dad.
So now I need to pack my bags. If I stay here, things will get worse. I need to change back into my jeans and a baggy hoodie, so no one can see any of my marks. I need to pack a bag: spare clothes, a sleeping bag, the teddy mum and dad gave to me when I was born. I look around my room, checking I haven’t forgotten anything. My room hasn’t changed since I was 12, the same pink walls and ‘Bratz’ curtains and matching duvet. Mum had made me them for Christmas. She could find bed covers but not any matching curtains. I was so upset she thought she would make some for me. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
As I go to walk out my bedroom door, I see the last picture of me and mum. It was from when we went to Blackpool. I was 11 and she was 27, but she looked a lot younger, like she was my sister. I look just like her now, the same brown curly hair, dark brown eyes and same body shape. Tears run down my face as I pack the picture so I can keep the last memory I have of mum. As I walk past the living room door, I see dad is passed out again; I can never tell if it’s the drink or the drugs that have him pass out on the couch. The curtains are closed and the room is in darkness, so he must have planned passing out while I was at school. He took all the photos of mum down after her funeral because he couldn’t look at her anymore. Maybe that’s why he hits me, because I look just like her. I steal some of his drink money from the kitchen, and take some of his drugs to sell if I run out of money. As I’m leaving the back door, the phone rings, and I can hear dad getting up. From his reaction, I’m guessing it’s the school phoning to see if he knows about what he has been doing to me for the past four years. His voice gets louder, and when the phone call ends, he shouts my name and goes to my room. By then I’m running down the street, away from the anger, the abuse, and the only family member I have still alive.
I get the bus into town. As we drive into town I see all the places I loved going with mum and dad: the duck pond, the play park and the swimming pool. We went there at least once every week, just so I could run about while mum and dad sat together like the happiest couple in the world. Some days mum would pack a picnic and we would stay in the park all day. When I get off at the town centre I spend a few hours wondering around to find somewhere to stay. There aren’t any hostels I could afford to stay in for a long time, and I needed to keep on the low so no one recognises me.
I don’t know how I got here, but it’s sheltered and no one will find me here. I’m in an abandoned alley way in an old Woolworth’s doorway. No one comes down here anymore, it’s just over flowing bins, junk people haven’t bothered clearing, and just bits of rubbish lying everywhere.
It’s hard to sleep at nights, I can hear the drunks going home after their usual night out, the cats searching the bins for something to eat and it’s hard to sleep on the cold hard floor.
It’s been two weeks, and as I go to spend the last bit of money I have left, I see a poster with my face on it in the bus shelter that takes you to the town centre. It’s only recently been put up. I can tell it’s not up because of my father. It’s a police one and it says it was sent in by my school. I try to ignore the poster, but when I get closer to town there are more and more of them. Some people are giving me dirty looks, either because they recognise my face from the poster, or because I look like I’ve been living on the streets for a few weeks. I start running back the way I came so no one realises it’s me, but someone notices and takes out a phone to call the number on the poster.
Now I’m back in my doorway and terrified in case someone finds me and puts me back with my dad. I know I’ve been in the cold for nights, but it’s the best I have felt since mum died. The past few nights I have not had someone shouting abuse at me or hitting me because his dinner isn’t good enough. It’s just me, and the photo with mum, but it’s not good enough. I wish I had my mum that I was with her so she could comfort me and tell me everything was okay, but it’s not, and I know that. I’m going through my bag to try and put on an extra hoodie on because it’s been colder the past few nights, and I find dad’s drugs at the bottom. So many thoughts run through my head when I spot them. I can either sell them for money to get away from here, or, I can use it the way I shouldn’t and get closer to mum.
“Soon mum, not long now...”
Next thing I know I’m waking up to a bright light and someone’s voice.
“Am I dead yet?” I knew I wasn’t, but it was worth a try.
“No but you were close to it! Someone get Tracy up here, tell her she’s awake.” I don’t know who this man is but I don’t like him. That moment a lady with short black hair wearing a flowery dress came in with a clip board. My guess is that it’s Tracy.
“Hello, I’m Tracy, your social worker.” Excuse me? My what?
“What? Why do I need a social worker?” She looks a bit young to be a social worker? I always thought they were old, plain, dull looking women?
“It’s okay; I just need you to answer some questions for me.” Why won’t she answer my question? “First question, what’s your name?”
“Okay, my name’s Samantha Emily McFadden.”
“Good, now, tell me about your... marks.” NO! No one needs to get involved. Why does she want to know? Why can’t people just keep out and mind their own business?
“It’s nothing, I’m just clumsy.” I can’t tell her. I can’t trust her...
“Samantha, I’m here to help, we need to know the truth, please tell me how all this happened.”
“...Okay, it started four years ago, when my mum died of breast cancer. She and dad were so happy together. But when she died, dad lost it. I had to look after him. I cleaned up, cooked, I did everything.” Deep breathe, keep going Sammi... “But nothing was ever good enough. I wasn’t mum. He took all his anger out on me. He blamed me for everything. Even mums death. He said that if I was never born things would be okay... He hated me.” I couldn’t go on. Tears were pouring down my face. I had never told anyone about this. I couldn’t. All they would say is ‘no he doesn’t, stop over exaggerating’ but Tracy listened. She knew I wasn’t lying, she must have heard millions of stories like mine, some far better, some far worse.
“Sam, was this why you tried to over dose?” All I could do is nod. She handed me a tissue so I could wipe the tears running down my face. “Sam, this isn’t right, why didn’t you tell anyone? Try to get help? You should have gone to the police. They would have helped you, taken your dad away.” I knew that, but I couldn’t do that. He was my dad.
“He would still find a way to get to me. He is the only family I have left. Mum wouldn’t have wanted me to get him in trouble...” Dad didn’t love me; he hated me so much, I didn’t know what mum would have wanted me to do, but from what dad said, it was as if him and mum both wanted me to die.
“Your mum wouldn’t have wanted you to get hurt. Do you think your mum would want your dad to treat you like this?”
“Dad said that’s what they both wanted...”
“Sam, never think like that, your dad was trying to hurt you! No one ever wants that to happen to their children. Everything your dad said wasn’t true.” I doubt it wasn’t true, the way dad said it, the anger in his eye, and it looked like he truly meant it, like mum told him herself.
“Tracy... What will happen now?” Please don’t contact my dad. If he finds me after what I did...
“We will need to contact your school, the police and your dad to say you’re safe, and if you want to you can make a statement against your dad.”
“Will that keep me safe?”
“Yes, you won’t see him again. He won’t be able to get to you”
“Okay,” I took a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”