I don’t know why my parents named me Jack Clover. Actually, I don’t even know why they decided to give me a name if they were just going to give me the life I have. Ever since I was younger, my parents were never home. Mom was always out, cheating with other men because my dad was an abusive alcoholic. She practically left home when I was only seven. Dad on the other hand, was arrested last year when I was in the 8th grade because he had beaten a woman in a train station when he was still in his same old drunk state. Now a freshman, I’m living all by myself in a beat up one story house in the middle of nowhere, next to a huge wheat field. For as long as I can remember, there was always at least one bruise on my body, from a beating from my
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“Now, now, my lucky clover. I told you once, and I am not telling you again. You can only go if you can land on this teeny, tiny, small spot we made for you that says ‘let go’. Now, shall we test your luck my lucky clover?”
I reached out towards the wheel as my hands begin to shake. I spun the wheel. Click clack, click clack, click clack. Finally it stopped; as usual, it landed on ‘get beat’. “Your luck sure is shit my lucky clover! Let’s play, boys!” CJ exclaimed as he roared with laughter. Then it began. He and his gang kicked my stomach, my face, my legs, and my whole body. After a good ten minutes, my vision started to become hazy and I could hardly breathe as my lungs were being crushed. Before I fell unconscious, I heard CJ voice saying, “Alright boys. Let’s stop here for today. We don’t want to kill our favorite toy. Let’s go”. “Finally,” I thought as the cold concrete of the blacktop touched the back of my ripped bloody white shirt, “it’s over”, and my swollen eyes shut …show more content…
“Am I in heaven?” I thought. “Who am I kidding. I’m still laying here on the freezing blacktop”. I slowly sat up with the help of my frail arms, and reached inside my pitch black backpack to retrieve my flip phone. I flipped open my old Motorola pink phone, and a little tone rang. No miss calls, no text messages, nothing. “Man, what luck I have. I should head home.” I whispered to myself. I stood up, and a throbbing pain surged throughout my body as I slung my backpack over my swollen right shoulder and limped my way home. As I was walking through the tall wheat field on my way from school, I saw the back of a tall, white, muscular guy. “No, it can’t be…” I thought to myself, but that orange ugly bowl cut told me that it really was him. He turned around, slowly lifted his right arm in a 90 degree angle, and I saw the only comfort I had in my life missing its left leg. I covered my mouth with tears streaming down my bloodied face, my heart burning with anger. He slowly lifted the big, rusty saw in his left hand and slowly cut off Caramel’s right leg. I could hear Caramel’s high-pitched cry as her other leg was slowly, and painfully sliced off. “I will get you, CJ Vick. You will experience what you put Caramel through” I thought as I clenched my fists, digging my nails deep into my
“Now, now, my lucky clover. I told you once, and I am not telling you again. You can only go if you can land on this teeny, tiny, small spot we made for you that says ‘let go’. Now, shall we test your luck my lucky clover?”
I reached out towards the wheel as my hands begin to shake. I spun the wheel. Click clack, click clack, click clack. Finally it stopped; as usual, it landed on ‘get beat’. “Your luck sure is shit my lucky clover! Let’s play, boys!” CJ exclaimed as he roared with laughter. Then it began. He and his gang kicked my stomach, my face, my legs, and my whole body. After a good ten minutes, my vision started to become hazy and I could hardly breathe as my lungs were being crushed. Before I fell unconscious, I heard CJ voice saying, “Alright boys. Let’s stop here for today. We don’t want to kill our favorite toy. Let’s go”. “Finally,” I thought as the cold concrete of the blacktop touched the back of my ripped bloody white shirt, “it’s over”, and my swollen eyes shut …show more content…
“Am I in heaven?” I thought. “Who am I kidding. I’m still laying here on the freezing blacktop”. I slowly sat up with the help of my frail arms, and reached inside my pitch black backpack to retrieve my flip phone. I flipped open my old Motorola pink phone, and a little tone rang. No miss calls, no text messages, nothing. “Man, what luck I have. I should head home.” I whispered to myself. I stood up, and a throbbing pain surged throughout my body as I slung my backpack over my swollen right shoulder and limped my way home. As I was walking through the tall wheat field on my way from school, I saw the back of a tall, white, muscular guy. “No, it can’t be…” I thought to myself, but that orange ugly bowl cut told me that it really was him. He turned around, slowly lifted his right arm in a 90 degree angle, and I saw the only comfort I had in my life missing its left leg. I covered my mouth with tears streaming down my bloodied face, my heart burning with anger. He slowly lifted the big, rusty saw in his left hand and slowly cut off Caramel’s right leg. I could hear Caramel’s high-pitched cry as her other leg was slowly, and painfully sliced off. “I will get you, CJ Vick. You will experience what you put Caramel through” I thought as I clenched my fists, digging my nails deep into my