Do you ever feel that bad things seem to follow you and then when things are going just fine they decide to hit you right in the face. I hate when that happens. Anyway to my story. When I was young I had a great life until things started to go wrong. My mum had left me with my dad and so everyday I used to wonder why everyone was getting picked up after school by their mums and I was getting picked up by a babysitter because my dad was always at work. Anyway when I was about 10 my dad hired a new babysitter. He used to sexually abuse me and it took me about a year to pluck up the courage and tell my dad. There was that and then it all got better until my dad got married. She was my stepmum and I hated her so much. She was ok at first until one day she snapped and she hit me. I began to avoid her as much as I could. She was an alcoholic too which didn’t make things much better. There would be nights when she would be ok and then there were nights when she would just flip. Anything would set her off and soon it became unbearable for my dad. He used to go out every night and leave me with her. When she was drunk she would hit me and if I tried to get away she would kick me outside in the cold while she drunk herself to oblivion. One day I found a large wooden pole which I took home and hid in my room so she couldn’t take it off me. This pole had been the best thing that happened to me. I also had a German Shepherd dog who I looked after and took for walks. The police would come round frequently because my stepmum would phone them or me. One day it got too much and my dog died. I beat my fists into the wall until they bled. It was the best feeling I have ever had. I could focus on the pain and block everything out: the shouting, the banging on the door as I sit there smiling at the blood running down my knuckles. I occasionally punched the wall when things got bad. But I had the pole so I was safe for now. One day I got back from school and my stepmum greeted me as I got into the house, a smug grin on her face. I raced to my room cause I knew she would be drunk and I was about to get beatings again for no reason. So anyway I got into my room and looked for my pole. Now I knew why she was grinning: she had chopped my pole up and thrown it in the skip. I knew I would only have a few minutes before she came in so I grabbed my rucksack and packed as fast as I could. I then climbed out of the window and ran as fast as my legs would take me. When I stopped I realised I had no idea of where I was going. I was still bitter and angry. I then remembered that I had packed my x-acto knives for wood carving. I pulled the sharpest knife out and remembered how punching the wall made me feel better so why not this. I looked at my arm and thought of the knife slicing through it. It felt so good. I did it again and again, feeling the warm blood trickle down my arm. I wasn’t thinking that my stepmum would of called the police and then the next thing I knew I was running away from them. It was pointless I got caught. When I did I collapsed in a heap and cried. The social services later got involved and they said they would help. For a year they never did. Through all that time no one noticed I was cutting. In P.E I would always wear jumpers and I never went swimming. But one day my friend found out and they went straight to the head of year in my school that would be when I was 14 in year 10. I explained everything and then convinced him I would never do it again. That was a few weeks ago. I still cut to this day.