Corruption

Part seven

I need to get out of here. The beatings have

gotten almost unbearable, and the

medicine is foul. Only a week and I'll be

sixteen.

I want to be outside. I want to feel the grass

beneath my feet. The flowers beneath my

fingertips. To feel the wind in my hair and

the sun on my skin.

I want to sit without worry of punishment.

To eat something that actually consists of

food. I want to feel free.