Dear Mrs. Parker
I want to thank you for last night. Even though Iâve paid for it today it was worth it. No matter how hard he hits itâs worth it. I donât care. He canât change this. I wonât let him.
PS. I love you.
Yours truly, Karla Lewis.
âMrs. Parker?â I saw her back as I came walking up the small hill that was in the middle of the park.
She turned around and I had to stop and just observe her for a few seconds. The light fell on her perfectly, showing of her beauty. A smile spread on her face as she saw me.
âHey thereâ¦â I attempted a smile myself as I walked up next to her.
âHi, howâs it going?â We sat down on a bench near the path, mostly so we could still see one another since it had gotten dark real quick.
âFine. Or well⦠I kind of wanted to talk to you about just that.â I secretly pinched my own arm when I heard my voice getting shaky again.
âWhatâs going on sweetie?â Mrs. Parker grabbed, my hand. Holding it gently on in her own as she waited for me to tell her what was happening.
The problem now was to start talking. I knew how hard this was for me to talk about and now as I was sitting here, having my chance to finally speak. Nothing. No words. No emotions. Nothing.
Luckily I had expected something like this would happen. So I had written her a letter instead. When I realized no words were coming out I reached into my pocket with my free hand and after some hesitation gave my teacher the paper.
Dear Mrs. Parker
If youâre reading this it must mean I failed to tell you what is happening. I still want you to know though, and writing it down is much easier than talking.
Do you remember that time when I stayed home from school and you sent an email to check on me? You know when we were going to the library with the class to pick out a book we wanted to write about? I said I had a headache and felt dizzy, which is true. But I never said what I had gotten it from.
The night before my adoptive mother hit my head against the kitchen counter when I burnt her eggs. She just kept hitting, telling me how worthless I am and that sheâs glad she isnât my real mother. It felt like an eternity before she finally stopped. I wanted to come with the rest of you to the library, I just couldnâtâ¦.
I would have told you this before, but I was scared. Scared of what would happen if my family found out I had told on them. I hope you can forgive me for this. Iâm telling you now, the fear is still there but I canât keep up appearance much longer.
Dear Mrs. Parker, thank you for taking time reading this. Thank you for being here when no one else is.
Yours truly, Karla Lewis.
Mrs. Parker looked up at me with tears in her eyes. I didnât know what to say or do so I just sat there, quiet with my hands in my lap.
âKarla⦠sweetie, I am so sorryâ¦â Before I could answer she had her arms around me, holding me tightly as if she was trying to protect me.
Thatâs when it happened, all my emotions came out at once. I cried like I never had before and I wasnât able to stop. I cried more than I had the first time my father hit me, more than that time my brother had groped me. Even more than the time my mother said there was no wonder my biological parents didnât want me.
As I finally calmed down I felt my teacher slowly pulling away, just so much so she could look at me. She wiped away the last tears on my cheek with her one hand.
âIâm not letting you go back there tonight, you can sleep in our spare room.â She stood up, took my hand and showed me to follow her.
This was the worst idea I had ever heard. I needed to get back before they noticed I was gone. I shivered at the thought of one of my family members coming in and finding my empty bed. Yet I didnât argue with my teacher, I just followed her.
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