I don’t know how all this happened, how my life vividly swirled out of control. By the way I’m Trixy Rhyle, 17 years old, a naïve teenage girl who used to live in the brightest city in the U.S. Las Vegas with abusive-non-caring-drug addicted parents, who don’t even care that I ran away from home. Now I live in sunny beaches and palm trees, Los Angeles California with my friends. My life isn’t perfect in my term perfect is nothing, a mean-less word to me. I can’t remember much of what happened, I feel somewhat disconnected from my body. I can’t move, it’s like there is a powerful pressure holding me down, I can’t even feel anything I must be numb. But… it feels like I’m on a… table of some sort. Amazingly, I can hear something, it’s beeping with my heart. Beep, beep—beep, beep—beep, beep. Wait! ... It can’t be… am I… in the HOSPITAL?! Oh I wish I could move, open my eyes and ask what happened. But its impossible, its like I’m paralyzed. Ugh, I hate the smell of the hospital, damn rubber gloves. I can visualize the white room with health posters so convincing to help you stay healthy and out of drugs. Silver tools on the small tables, and the sink on the side of the room. How did I get here?
I only remember one thing, and that was… when I finally decided to go home, just to check how everything was going… that’s all.

Unless… Bam! It hit me; a few faded memories came back at me like a train at full speed. The vivid memories making my heart beat faster and faster. I remember almost a year ago, I ran away from home, sadly saying good-bye to my two older brothers: Stanley 25 years old (married), and Allen 20 years old (living with Stanley for a while). The sad pain shocked all out through my body. I remember that part so well, it was sunny as always, but the sun was setting, prettier than ever. A shade of orange, yellow, and pink with hints of blue, and purple. The breeze was light carrying the scent of near by roses, lilacs, and raspberries. The background sound was the birds chirping, singing a lullaby, as Stanley and Allen tell me, “Do what’s best for yourself, and don’t do anything that would hurt you. We love you, take care little sister.” That was the last time I’ve spoken to them. I remember most of my violent past, as my mom would yell at my face, and push me around, even when I turned sixteen. She locked me in the basement when she was drunk. Being in a gloomy basement, cold, and shivering. Smelling the soil and dirt, hearing the vibrations of my parents above me walking around, and the ringing of the phone. The knocking on the door, the familiar voices of my friends asking if I’m home. My mother lying to them saying, “I don’t know where she went.” Wondering if that monster mother is going to keep me locked up for the day or forever. Wondering if I'm ever going to smell the fresh scent of the crisp air, and beautiful flowProxy-Connection: keep-alive
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s. Some sweet sixteen… I’ll call it my bittersweet sixteen. I remember the iron smell of blood as it stained my shirt when my mother threw a glass vase at me, and watched it shatter over my shoulder. The shiny pieces flying in the air, variety of colors, like rain sprinkling, around me, with a rainbow over head. The pain was unbearable, small pieces of glass stuck in my skin. I can feel the pain just thinking about it.
The day before I ran away, because I got sick and tired of my abusive mother, it was the worst day ever. When I got home after a wonderful day under the sun writing and singing out our lyrics, with my friends. The air pushing the sweet smell of our Rock star and Monster energy drinks, and a few of them swimming in the pool, blasting the music high and loud. Just another friend party after school. I started heading home around 9:30 PM, like I always do so I don’t have to deal with my parents. As always my parents were drugged up. My house was as messy as a trashed party. It smelled like dirty socks, and moldy old food that’s been sitting out in the sun for 3 days. I covered my nose as I headed for my room which trying not to gag as I walked pass the piles of empty beer cans. My room is the last door on the left in the orange colored hallway upstairs. Nothing fancy in my house, well not that I know of. I quietly crept pass the rooms then turned to open my colorful decorated door, walked in and turned on my lights. I jumped up as I saw my mother standing right in front of me, waiting…I can see her blood-shot eyes glaring at me, I could smell the stale smell of alcohol on her breath, and her beer stained white shirt. She's so noticeable in my dark room, her light clothes in my dark purple room; I’m guessing she's been drunk for about 2 days. I tried my best to kindly ask her to leave my room, but every time I see her, my blood boils under my skin, and it didn’t work. I glared back at her speaking through my clenched teeth. She never listened to me… like always. She screamed at me, “Where have you been? Trixy! Why can’t you be a normal kid and come home after school, instead of bumming around with your worthless friends!” I tried to keep my cool, but in an instant my anger rose up uncontrollably. “Mom, get out of my room now! I don’t want to deal with you anymore!” I yelled without cussing. Out of no where her fist came at me, I dodged it quickly, then soon things got way out of control. I tried my best not to hurt her, because she still was my mother and I sort of still cared about her. I wasn’t paying attention on where we were heading too, until she pushed me. I was thinking I would bump into the desk of dying flowers or bump into the orange wall, well I hoped for it but… instead I was tumbling down our white-carpeted staircase. Hitting the door very hard nearly breaking it down. Landing in a pile of empty beer cans. I can smell it, its stinging my nose and burning my throat. I can’t get up the pain in my chest unbearable, that it was hard to breathe. I can see colorful dots dancing around every where I looked, distracting me from looking at my mom, who was watching me with a evil smirk on her face, and seeing the hatred in her eyes towards me. Those memories made me want to cry, but I was still paralyzed.
After that incident I remember limping to my friends house trying not to fall. I was covered in bruises, and had maybe two fractured ribs. Entering the sky blue building that had vases of carnations, and roses. Ignoring the shocked faces as I passed by them. Waiting in the elevator holding the rail to help keep my balance. Hearing the lame, boring elevator music, wishing I could break it to make it shut up. Finally on the floor where my friend lived. Walking in the white decorated hallway with a fancy gold-colored carpet, with the smell of the fresh breeze blowing in from the balcony, and lilacs in blue vases, also the smell of other apartments mixing in the air. Someone baking a delicious vanilla cake, it made my mouth water. I knocked impatiently at her brown door, hoping she was home, shaking from the pain. She quickly got to the door knowing it was I, because I always go to her to escape from my dungeon. Elanah Trazz AKA Ela, 18 years old, has a place of her own. I’m so glad she doesn’t stay with her parents anymore, because I don’t want more people worrying about me. I can take it I’m tough enough, I guess. Ela would always welcome me into her small cute lime green colored apartment. I’ll never forget the sweet smell of tangy oranges and lavender in her house, also her lovely smell of perfume, so good it’s hard to explain the exciting smell. She would examine me then hug me ever so lightly. Mmm, the smell of her strawberry shampoo of her medium—short red dyed hair with pink highlights. She would interrupt my thoughts of her by saying, “Trix, I swear we are going to move out of this mess, and everything well get better.” It feels really good to be with her, it always has been ever since I moved here. She’s been like a sister to me a very best friend. I was in 3rd Grade when I moved here in Sin City (Las Vegas) all the way from the sunny beaches Miami. So I’ve known Ela for about 9 years.
All the plans we made Ela, my best friends and I made together. We planned on running away to California. We even had our own band called Revelint. My friends in it are Ela, Alexandria “Alex” Rose, her sister Cassie Rose, Rachael “Rae” Haze, and Jake Vail, with his older brother Cody Vail. All of us together: Ela 18, Alex 18, Cassie 16, Rae 16, Jake 19, and Cody 20. We would spend hours and hours at Cody’s house planning on moving to Cali; we even looked for houses on the internet and driving around nearly all day under the sun in LA. Finely we found an amazing red house we can all live in, it was on a small hill and it was huge and beautiful. I’m so glad we all had jobs to make money and made enough to buy the “crib.” So we bought it. Now Cody’s staying there waiting for us to come over and move in. I stayed at Ela’s house for 3 days before I decided to move to LA, ASAP. We called our band buddies and asked if they wanted to move with us now or later, and two people were able to. Their parents wanted them to get a place to stay because they were old enough to live on their own. So it was Ela, Jake, Alex and I, poor Cassie and Rae had to be left behind because they still need to attend school.
Ugh, now I have to face my dreadful parents when I finely go home to pack. The next bad memory… I called my brothers to ask if they wanted to help me out after I told them what happened three days ago. They agreed and came to pick me up. We went into our parent’s gray, two-story house surrounded by roses and lavenders, with a cute rock path that leads to the black front door. As we got into our house we found our father passed out on the yellow couch, the TV on a boxing channel and the place still a disgusting mess, dirty clothes hanging around, the trash can full and over flowing. The dishes lying around waiting to be picked up and cleaned. Ew, I bet there is going to be cockroaches. My mother was gone, amazingly. We had to dig around the house for unused luggage bags like bums, and talked while we were packing my things. I told my brothers about the time I used drugs, because of my depression my most memorable miseries my mother held upon me. ‘Two years ago when I was 15, I almost got addicted to drugs. I don’t remember what kind of pills I’ve taken or brand of alcohol I’ve drank but I was so drugged up, idiotically I came home, mom was sober for once, and she noticed my condition and started screaming in my face telling me all these things, asking me questions and pushing me around. She asked why I was doing this and I yelled at her saying, “Its all your fault, you and dad made me depressed, especially you mom! How come you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you? I’m trying my best to prove to you I’m nice, hard working, smart, and how good I am, but you guys don’t even care about me!” Then she slapped me; I pushed her away from me, then staggered my way up to my room. Anger and sadness overwhelmed me; I locked my colorful decorated bedroom door, crawling on my fuchsia carpet, falling on top of my huge bed. Crying my self to sleep in my dinosaur bed sheets and colorful zebra striped blanket, comfortable in my soft bed like lying on fuzzy feathers or on a fluffy white cloud. Cuddling my lime green elephant named Phil.’ I was amazed I remembered that, I thought the drugs would help erase my horrible memories and nightmare images, but it just helped numb my pain deep inside, which never lasted so long it kept coming back. I expected it to do much more than that. My brothers told me to never do that again, but I didn’t listen to them. I just nodded my head. My older brother Stanley went to his house to get something from his house and check on his wife Darla. So I was with Allen. He told me a few things when he used to live with mom and dad. A few years ago, his memories were worse than mine, because when he was about my age or younger, our parents became newbie’s on drugs, madly addicted. He asked me if I remember him being in the hospital. I hesitated for a while trying to scan my memories. “No, I… don’t remember it that much.” I whispered to him. Then he told me all about what happened. By the time he was finished talking about his memories we were finished packing my bags. We looked at the time; it was almost 7 PM. Sun still up setting very, very slowly. We heard a loud thud downstairs, it startled us. After that we heard yelling, immediately I recognized that scratchy voice, it was our mother. My brother told me to hide in the closet as he hid behind my huge white bed frame. I forgot what my mother was yelling about but she was yelling at my father. They were arguing back and forth at each other. Then we heard someone angrily stomping up the stairs, cussing under their breath. Then I realized my white and blue luggage were near my wide open door. “Oh no!” I whispered, “She's going to see my bags, and come in here.” Then it got quiet, I started to wonder where or what my mother was doing. Then I heard her footsteps coming closer to my room. I held my breath, not wanting to be heard… “Trixy… are you in here?” she whispered. I was amazed at how calm and gentle her voice was. But I refused to answer back to her. I wanted to hug her actually, because she sounded so peaceful, and angelic, she hasn’t talked like that in years. It brought back a loving childhood memory when everything was okay and normal, where we did believe in fairy tales and happily ever after. That part of my memory gave me aching butterflies and a small wave of happiness. Then I realized my mother was in the room, I nearly gasped as I seen how utterly beautiful she looked, as if she bloomed out of the darkness and into a new person. Her long dark, wavy brown hair bouncing with every step she took. Her creamy teal eyes shaded with eye shadow and make-up, gazing about in my room of colors. Now I see how other people say I look exactly like her. Her dress was knee-high glittering red, and black small glittering diamond heels. She looked like she was a fancy rich person, stepping off of the red carpet. I wondered why she was all dressed up. She stopped and slowly turned toward the closet. I braced myself, waiting for her to spring into the closet looking for me like a dog that found the scent its been looking for. She opened my white closet door carefully then… blinked in amazement and gasped, “There you are.” I was so shocked I felt like my heart was going to pop out of my chest. She smiled gracefully, and I looked behind her where I seen my brother with one of my huge thick red books over his head as if his about to pounce our mother and knock her out with my book. I shook my head and got to my feet, trying my best not to fall over. I saw the confusion in my mother’s wonderful mysterious teal eyes as she turned around. My brother was hiding again. “What are you looking at dear?” my mother questioned. “Why are you dressed up? Did you hit your head or something?” I asked hastily. She never answered, just smiled spontaneously. I curiously watched her, and then she gently pulled me out of my large empty closet. Startled again by her new reaction to me I became very suspicious. ‘Was she taking some kind of drug that made her act this way?’ I thought to myself… ‘But she doesn’t look like she's been on drugs for a while.’ Then she my mother interrupted my thoughts. “Are you okay, sweet heart? You look so tensed, why is that?” she actually asked nicely. ‘Why am I freaking out?’ I thought to myself. ‘I guess because the way she's been acting… is she finally herself again? Its been what five years?’ She continued to stare at me still smiling, waiting for me to answer her. “Why are you doing this?” I replied. “Doing what?” she wondered. “Acting like this! You usually yell in my face and push me around!” I yelled at her. She gasped. “I’m so sorry, Trix.” She sobbed into my shoulder “I’m sorry I treat you so badly. I’ll stop drugs I’ll try my best.” I felt like crying with her but I sucked it up. She hugged me tightly then asked, “Do you forgive me sweet heart?” I hesitated to answer then finely after a long minute I said, “I don’t know…” Again she was crying in my arms and surprisingly said, “Trixy, I love you.” Tears fell down my face as I gazed into my mother’s creamy teal watery eyes. “I…I…love you too mom.” I whispered because of the lump in my throat. She hugged me and I hugged her back even tighter. Then after a few seconds of hugging a sharp piercing pain shot out on my side, then my mother angrily and viciously said, “I’m dressed up because I had to go to your damn school, they called me yesterday informing me that they have dropped you out of school for not being there for how many days. Trixy, I’m so mad at you! Where the heck have you been? Not coming home at all sometimes, what are you going to do with your life, you have no future! I cant believe you’re my daughter!” her words so harsh, and the pain on my side much worst. I looked down and saw a small stream of blood running down my side, and I realized she stabbed me with a long thick nail. Tears streaming down my face, I scream in pain and agony as she stabs me again. Now my brother jumps out from hiding. My mom continued to yell at me, “I don’t care about you anymore, you’re just a mere speck in my mind that’s bugging me and won’t disappear!” My brother was pushing her out the door yelling at her to get out and to leave me alone. I was on the floor, which now dotted with blood, screaming in pain, thinking, ‘How could a metal nail hurt so much?!’ My brother was at my side, and the nail was still stuck inside my skin. He pulled it out as carefully as possible, and then examines the nail. “She dipped it in some Clorox…” he whispered. “Ugh, no wonder it’s burning like crazy!” I screamed in pain. He helps me clean the wounds and put huge band-aids on them. We heard a car door slam. It was our older brother. Finally his back… well, can’t blame him he has a pregnant wife to take care of. We looked out the window, almost 7:20 PM. The sun coming down saying its goodbyes to the world as it sets farther down. They helped me down the stairs and got my bags. I noticed my mom was gone again, she maybe thought we would call the cops on her. The rest of that memory was a blur.
But I remember sometime after that. My friends and I moved into the Red house on the hill surrounded by a few palm trees and lovely flowers that seem so new to me, in LA. We practiced non-stop with our band, and going to the beaches exploring LA. I tried going back to school; I’m so glad that it was easy; since they found out I dropped out in my other school. The teachers were nicer to me than my former teachers in Las Vegas. The school was brighter then my old gloomy depressing school, which made me, feel much better. My friends and I decided to perform for my school, and amazingly they loved us. It felt as if my life was recovering from my horrible nightmare past. For the first time in a very long time I feel very happy. But the drugs would pop out all of a sudden, okay I tried a little bit of this and that but I didn’t do it again. Well… when I was enjoying my life. It’s been months since I’ve seen my parents, and I was having fun, not worrying one bit. I just need two more credits in school so I can graduate. I can’t believe it! I want to be a Nurse when I’m older, I love math, science, lit. And health. I know I can do this.
I started to have vivid dreams of my parents, when we were a happy loving family. My mind ached for that so much, I got sick and tired of it, it left me restless during the day. I would dream of us all together on family vacations at sunny Hawaii, crowded New York, fun Disney World, snowboarding in Colorado, and warm Texas. All of us enjoying and gazing at the sight of beauty wherever we went. Then I dreamt of my other memories of being with my friends in cold Alaska, and rainy Seattle traveling together with our band. We had so much fun performing, and signing autographs. The love we have for each other is stronger than anything ever thrust upon me. It’s my world.
That’s most of what I can remember. The rest is a blur… but I should be able to keep scanning my memories to find out why I’m in the hospital. Blurry or not I want to find out why I’m here. After a minute, I could see everything it was finally coming into place. Yes! I remember!
Just a few days ago my dream felt so real, that I decided to go check my parents and brothers to let them know I’m doing much better. I remember driving a long time passing the tall busy buildings, and people scattering around the sidewalks, on my way home… or former home. I was so tense and nervous when I parked my yellow Ferrari in the cracked drive way. The sun was high up in the sky of blue, with no clouds. I took deep breaths to calm myself down. The air was warm and moistly, but not as moistly as LA’s air. I went inside, not bothering to knock on the door. I noticed the house was clean, it seemed so different, at first I thought I entered the wrong house, until I seen my parents. They both glared at me as I tried to smile and forget my past. My father was the first to break the awkward silence between us. “Trixy? …What are you doing here?” he asked. “I… I wanted to see you guys, and tell you I’m doing much better… and I wanted to check you guys, I keep having dreams about our family together.” My mom got up from the holding a bottle. She glared wildly at me. “Why should we care about what you do, Trixy?” She said rudely through her teeth. –Blurry memory- but soon my mom was the one to get violent she broke the bottle on the fancy wooden coffee table, and then ran toward me. My dad trying to stop her but failed unsuccessfully. It was too late; the broken bottle was at my chest, piercing my heart. Immediately my father threw my mother off of me, and out of the way to come by my side. Taking the broken bottle out of my chest dialing 911 on his silver cell phone. It was very hard to keep my eyes open, seeing all of the swirling lights dancing about; everything became blurry in seconds then turned black.
That was it, that’s why I’m here. I’m …dying. I can feel my heart decreasing, slowing down. Pain deep inside killing me. I can see a bright light. I feel like I’m floating… I am floating upward… As I look down I can see the tops of the peoples heads gathering around me… trying to save me. As I reach up to white and gold steps leading up into the clouds, a pale white beautiful angel awaits for me. She said, “Trixy, you have been through so much in your life. You have a choice to make. You can either go back to earth living or come with me and become an angel.” I gasped looking down. “Am I really going to heaven?” “That’s your choice to make.” The smiling angel answered. It took me a minute to figure out what I should do. Then whispered, “I choose to… become an angel.” I don’t want to deal with any more pain; I’ve been through hell. Now I could hear my heart stop beating and that machine buzzing. Its finally over now, it’s all over.
My cruel life has ended and now a new journey begins.












The end?

“This wouldn’t have happened if she or someone else reported child abuse. Lets go find out all the drama that happened after we look at the body, and we have to find out her past.” A mysterious cop suggested to another cop shorter then him. “Right, lets go boss.”

The End,
For now