[ WP ] Write a journal entry for a child that has been abused ( mentally , emotionally , physically , spiritually , sexually , etc ) their entire life ... .

Dear Diary, 
 
 I slept well last night. `` Daddy'' did n't come back to the house until he was drunk enough to collapse on his *own* bed. At least one night of solace for me and the baby. That's what he makes me call him, anyways. Daddy. I do n't remember my real father. He never came home from Iraq, so my mother told me. Probably why no one was watching me while I played outside that day, mother was at work. 
 
 
 Autumn must be just around the corner because it feels warmer down here, Daddy must have turned on the heat because of the colder weather. Sometimes I can remember what it was like. Autumn had vibrant colors, golden, red, and yellow hues painting the trees as the leaves were bled of life. I used to gaze out the window as I read John Green novels, wrapped in my blanket and sipping tea mother had prepared for me, enjoying the agony of the leaves as they resigned to beautiful decay. 
 
 
 I fell asleep early last night, or was it night? It might have been day, I do n't know. I never know. Down here the only light I have is from this little bulb. Sometimes in the winter I touch it quickly to warm my hands. The pain is warming, it brings my fingers out of numbness. That is all I feel. Numbness. I probably look as I feel: a gaunt shadow, withered and sunken. There is nothing left. My only enjoyment comes from the quiet blackness that awaits in sleep, the silent oblivion. I did n't wake up in tremors last night. And even when I did wake up, there was a brief instant where I forgot who and where I was. I miss that feeling. 
 
 
 I hope they find me. 

