Child Abuse: A Short Story

Why me? why was I as vulnerable as a rose in the midst of adolescent school girls? I lay there on the scorching ground fueled by the Qatar sun. Infiltrated by the eyes of my closest Friends, or so I thought they were. Inches away from my coffin I ponder what has made me so alluring to abuse, my bloody bruised frame resembling that of a cadaver. Unpolluted at the age of thirteen, I prayed this torture wouldn't exacerbate.

The habitual shriek of the whistle, followed by a crisp entry into the cold water, after an arduous twenty-four seconds I secure first place. Drudgery paid off, then my medal was stripped snatching along my happiness and pride. I had the fastest time yet I placed last …why? Simply because I wasn't a citizen. Seeing my medal and applause that belonged to me go to some undeserving kid after years of hard work poisoned my virtue.

I had no security. I was the team punching bag dragged to the locker room to relieve any anger another so-called team member felt. I always looked forward to getting into the water, because for two hours I was provided with asylum, as long as I was swimming; I was safe. I’d survived the physical abuse. However, nothing hurts like phycological pain, pain that makes you feel different, pain that …show more content…
I loved the sport… Although I I a million reasons to hate it. Cascade Swim Club was God’s answer to my prayers, everything from the commute to practice, up to the final minute. Canada was different, Canada was healthy. One man named Marc was like the coach I never had. He saw my potential and didn't hesitate to harvest it. During my swimming career, I was never exposed to love and care, until he coached me. Prompting me to Quickly reach the Peak of my career by shattering provincial records. Canada felt like a dream, I woke up on a plane back to Qatar. Arriving at pure hypocrisy and manipulation, phone calls came in daily, those who crushed me down wanted credit for building me