*****************Johnnie's POV*****************
Wow. 'She's really pretty,' I think with a blush on my cheeks. I stare at her and try to figure out if she would ever want to be friends with me. Probably not. I'll never be able to muster the guts to even talk to her let alone ask her to be friends. Ronnie and her walk up and I quickly bow my head to hide my blushing face.
"Hello Johnnie. I'm your new father but you can call me Ronnie if you want," Ronnie tells me. I nod to show him I understand. I see her, Kathandria kind if hiding behind Ronnie. Am I truly that hideous? She waves shyly at me and I wave back.
"Johnnie, may I ask you something personal?" Ronnie asks me as he kneels and looks me in the eye. I nod.
"Why were you in that orphanage?" Ronnie asks.
"Get everyone else and I'll tell you. I don't want to say it more than once." I say wearily. He nods and he gets the others. We all sit down.
"Ronnie asked me why I was in the orphanage. Here's why. I was in it because my mother...my real mother was killed by my father when I was younger, about three or four. She had tried to leave him and so he killed her. He was violent with her all the time. About a year or two later, he got remarried. She seemed nice at first. But she was a horrid, evil woman. Whenever my father wasn't home, she would hit me. Nothing major but still bad enough. My father found out and he beat the shit out of her. She promised never to do it again. And she didn't. Then, my father and her got addicted to drugs and alcohol. They were rarely ever home. I had to learn to take care of myself when I was around nine. I got bullied a lot at school because of the way I dressed, looked, the music I listened to, basically anything and everything. Eventually, CPS found out about the shit and took me away. They found out about four days ago. That;'s how I ended up in the orphanage. I'm sixteen now." I say. I see Kathandria looking at me with tears in her eyes. She runs up to me and engulfs me in a hug.
*****************Kathandria's POV*****************
Tears fill my eyes as I hear his story. Poor Johnnie! I run up to him and engulf him in a hug. I whisper that everything's going to be okay. I feel him hug me back after the shock wears off. I release him. I'm ready to tell them now.
"I'm ready to tell you guys how I ended up in the orphanage. I know y'all are curious." They all nod.
"Kat, honey, if you don't want to tell us, you don't have to. I want you to tell us when you're truly ready to." Oli says as he looks at me.
"Oli, I'm ready to tell you. Just...y'all might want to sit down. It's a long story." I say.
"Okay, if you're certain." Oli says. I nod. I take a deep breath before launching into my story.
"From the day I was brought home from the hospital, I was treated like shit and abused by my family. My father was always hitting me as was my mother. One day, I heard my father and mother arguing about something. Turns out, he was planning on leaving us. My mother begged him not to go. He said that she knew what she had to do to get him to stay.
I ran to my room then. I had a bad feeling about the way he said that. My mother, or as I used to call her, Bitch came into my room and gave me a bath even though I had just had one. She dressed m in really fancy clothes and put make up on me. Perfume too. And other things as well. She opened the door and left the room.
My father then came in. S-she le-let him r-rape me. I was only two at the time. And continued to let him do so. At first, it was only him. But then...it was others. His friends, business partners, and such. He brought the business partners so he could close deals that he wanted. He was a business man you see. He was into drugs and alcohol as well. They all raped me in my ass. Never in my vagina...so I suppose I'm still a virgin. everyone they brought over would hit me and stuff. T-they video taped themselves raping me...when I was three....
It attracted people to my father. It was a hush-hush kind of thing. I...I think he started charging people because random strangers, people that my father didn't even know, started to come in and rape me. They always degraded me. Hell, everyone has. My sister tried to kill me when I four. She was jealous of the attention our father gave me. She started beating me more than usual. The rest of my family got into drugs when I was five. My mother tried to kill me all my life but she always failed. She tried drowning me when I was five and a half because my father never slept with her anymore. He still gave her money though. He was always raping me.
I've never had any friends. The day I got into kindergarten, everyone made fun of me. Including the teachers and the rest of the faculty. They all bullied me. Hitting me. Locking me up in a closet or what the fuck ever it was. Nearly freezing me to death. My parents never did anything about it. In middle school, the principal and a few of the teachers, both male and female, find out about the little rape thing my father had going on. They joined in for free. It was horrible. S-som-some of them br-brought their dogs and p-pets with them....a-and l-let them r-rape me too. My parents always made me sleep outside, whether it was raining or snowing. It didn't matter to them. I was a fucking disgrace, a mistake to them. They loved my sister more. Placed her on a pedestal and made me do all the chores and everything. They barely ever fed me or let me drink water. With the water, they only gave me enough o be kept on the doorstep of Death but not go over it. I might have been given a minuscule piece of cheese once a month if that. My mother ran me over once and then purposefully back over me to make sure I was dead. The neighbors found me on the street. They brought me to the hospital and left me there. The doctors fixed me up and sent me on my merry way.
They threw me out of their house when I was nine, literally threw me out the house. I landed in their wine bottles. Which is why I have so many scars of my left side. They came from the glass bottles. It's one of the reasons I always lock the bathroom door no matter what I'm doing in there. Makes me feel slightly safe even though I'm not. I've been living on the streets ever since my parents threw me out the morning of my ninth birthday. CPS found me about a month ago. I've been in the orphanage since then. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go unpack what little possessions I have," I say with a sad smile. I bolt up the stairs and let the tears fall once I'm in my room. I lock the door behind me and slid down it onto the floor. Fuck, I want to die again. But I can't, not now at least. I get up and unpack my stuff. The only two outfits besides the one I have on gets put in the dresser. There, I'm unpacked. I grab my razors, my only true friends, and lay on my bed. I cut in between my ribs again. Deeper and deeper with each and every cut. I get up and take a shower. I watch the bloody water drain. I put on my pajamas and lay in my bed. I fall into a troubled and fitful sleep, dreaming of the demons in my past.

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