NSFW

yOnce and still, I’m depressed. Normally people shove depression off as just a passing incident or nothing of enormous importance, just sadness. Those people are ignorant. Depression is a curse, something you can’t shake off no matter how hard you try. I know this first hand. I’m not saying this for attention, or to be a drama queen lusting for attention.   So here I am, locked up in this stupid small room that  to be my bedroom. The walls were starting to peel, the color was pale yellow from all those years of sunlight hitting it. My parents didn't even care about my health. Treated me like a dog. I'm here because of my dad. He wanted to rape me. I disobeyed and ran off into the streets, hungry and thirsty. Eventually, I gave in and snuck back into the house at midnight. He found out... I don't give a shit, my life has always been like this. I had to go to the hospital several times because of my father throwing beer bottles ast my head, face, ect. The room is empty, except for the window that is covered up by a board. Dad got divorced and forced me to move out. I loved this house- so much infact, I even made my own hideout. Just to escape all the stress. I'm 22 now, my dad uses this room to punish his new children. Then I noticed, dried up blood on the floor. There was a belt hanging far away in one of the walls, leathery and torn up. What had he done? I had to do something about this. Possibly report all of his crimes to the police. They won't take it seriously until I show proof, maybe. They will just think I'm pathetic. Then this horrible, putrid smell filled my nose and I started to gag. Vomit, I thought. Yup. Inside the wall I was leaning against, there was a disgusting, pale white goop dripping out of a hole. It was soon accompanied by chunks. It reminded me of my moms oatmeal, it was delicious even though it looked bad. This room was in pretty terrible condition. I crawled away from the wall and watched as more goop rolled down the wall and made a puddle on the rusty, yellow floor, rolling on some of the dried up blood. It made me nauseous. Maybe I could check in the closet and see if I could find my hideout and escape this torture chamber that was once my room. The closet was just as bad as the walls, scratched and blood splattered onto it. One thing caught my eye. This blood wasn't lost too long ago. Once I slid a finger across the white board, the blood had gotten on my finger. Something told me not to open it... Oh, but curiosity took over. I grabbed the little doorknob and pulled it open. There it was, BDSM equiptment. The sight of all those toys, the leashes and gags... I was surprised. The dildos ranged from what, 12 inches or more? The deeper I went into the closet, the more nervous I got, shaking in fear. Why were these here! Did he torture his own children with these? Then I fell to the floor, the little door that lead to my hide out was still there. It made me fell relieved, and I opened the other doorknob and slid into a small room where I had to hold my knees so I was able to move my arms the slightest bit. There was a rag doll, still in perfect condition. The small window that I used to watch the cars from. They glided along the streets, not caring about a single thing. So did I, I wondered what it would feel like to be free for once. That is, until I hear three moans coming from outside the closet.