It was around 8:20 at night; I heard the police sirens in the distance. They kept getting louder and louder, or maybe it was because I was lying on the floor zoning in and out.  All I could focus on was how dirty the floor was. I remember thinking about how I was gonna die on a dirty floor.  I don’t remember much else of that night. But I do remember the police bursting through the door. Things were getting blurry and sounds were getting quieter. I heard my father screaming though, that much I remember. My father was so scared, but he wasn’t scared for me. He was scared of going to jail.  He was fighting the cops. I managed to pick out 3 cops trying to put him on the hood of the car. Finally, I heard the sound of a taser. The police officer was handcuffing him. Another cop lifted my practically lifeless body, it kinda felt like I was dreaming. It all went black. But I remember one thing, the sound my mother made.

It was around 8:20 at night; I heard the police sirens in the distance. They kept getting louder and louder, or maybe it was because I was lying on the floor zoning in and out.  All I could focus on was how dirty the floor was. I remember thinking about how I was gonna die on a dirty floor.  I don’t remember much else of that night. But I do remember the police bursting through the door. Things were getting blurry and sounds were getting quieter. I heard my father screaming though, that much I remember. My father was so scared, but he wasn’t scared for me. He was scared of going to jail.  He was fighting the cops. I managed to pick out 3 cops trying to put him on the hood of the car. Finally, I heard the sound of a taser. The police officer was handcuffing him. Another cop lifted my practically lifeless body, it kinda felt like I was dreaming. It all went black. But I remember one thing, the sound my mother made.
“Madison,” I heard my mom whispering. “Wake up.” I looked around and I was in a hospital bed. Honestly, I felt like I was in a movie. Or one of my favorite crime shows. It felt like there were as many cops as they could fit in my room. One older cop kept staring at the clock, like he could be doing anything else with his time. “What happened?” was the first thing to come out of his mouth. I was on so many medications and different drugs from the hospital, that I could barely keep my head up. Meanwhile, this old cop is trying to get me to do a play by play of what happened before the cops came. I could barely tell you what my name was. He was asking question after question.

“What were you wearing?”
“What did he hit you with?”
“Where was your sister?”
“What time did it start?”
“When did the beatings start?”

The cop starting yelling at me when I couldn’t keep up with the questions . He kept repeating his questions, louder and louder. I was so drugged up that I felt trapped in my head. I heard the other cops whispering. “We aren’t gonna have enough evidence are we?” As they were talking, my mom stood up and yelled at them to leave.
I was constantly getting letters from people I didn’t even know. It was weird enough to have people I know say “I’m so sorry.” Imagine having complete strangers saying it.  I was taking every medication known to man. I was high as a kite for two weeks straight. I was assigned to a therapist, and then another, and then another. I switched through 5 different therapists until one finally told my mom, “Your daughter is gonna kill herself before she is 16.” I got so tired of seeing the cops. They practically lived at my house with me. I had to repeat the story of my father so many times for “evidence”. I got so many stuffed animals from the police station, I could barely fit on my own bed. The police were getting more and more upset with me. I wasn’t fully admitting that my father abused me. I was avoiding the situation all together. They were harassing me for more and more information: “ You have to give us more to work on.”
My father was sentenced for 4 different crimes. He got a total of 6 years in prison. He will be getting out in November of next year. A lot of people always ask me how it has impacted my life. Honestly, I had a good chunk of my childhood stolen from me. I will never forgive him for that. But I still love him. Behind all the hatred, he was the one who helped me with my math homework. He also took me so many places. Even though I know, he would take me places and give me gifts as him apologizing, I can never view him as all evil. And to that therapist, I’m 16 years old now. I have a job. I’m going to college. I have straight A’s. Not only have I been off my anti-depressants for a year now., but for once in my life, I am happy. And for that, I am so  God damn proud of myself.