Bubblegum by Bailey Blueberrycherry (english reading book TXT) 📕

"Mommy!" I screamed in my small child's voice. She was laying on the ground, motionless. I dragged myself slowly down the ditch with my arms, because my legs weren't working. Then back up it, to the place she had been thrown. Her petite and motherly body lay not only motionless, but lifeless as well. Her eyes were wide open and there was a stick poking out of her throat. I shook her. When she didn't move, I wrapped my arms around her tightly, sobbing, and begging her to come back to me. I was 6. My brother was 8, and was laying 20 ft. away from me and our mom. He got up, seemingly unscathed, and asked me what was wrong with mommy.
"She's got a stick in her froat!" I had just lost my first tooth.
"What!?!?" He said, collapsing to his knees. I released my grip on my mother and reached for him. He pulled me up onto his lap, squeezing me tightly.
"Sky? Marky? Junebug?" He yelled for me, my brother, and my mother, limping up the hill, blood dripping down his face from a cut on his forehead. "Where are you?"
"Over here, Daddy!" Marcus yelled, a clearly large of sadness in his voice.
"What happened, Junebug, Marky? Is Skylah okay?" He had a worried tone in his voice.
"At least I'm alive!" I said, sobbing. His face got emotionless, and he dropped to his knees. The love of his life was dead.
"JUNE!" He screamed hatefully at the heavens, "GIVE ME BACK MY JUNEBUG YOU BASTARD!"
A drunk driver was speeding down the same hardly driven road as us. He was going the opposite direction with his passed out girlfriend in the passenger seat. She flopped her hand over and it landed on his leg that was on the gas pedal. Her arm was heavy enough to push his leg all the way down and while he was pulling her hand off of him he lost focus, and rammed head on into our truck, nearly paralyzing me, breaking my brother's toe, snapping my father's leg and one of his arms, and killing my mother. He also killed his girlfriend, who was wearing her seat belt and was fully sober at the time, but he, who was not wearing his seat belt and was completely loaded, got away with nothing but a scratch on his forehead. He was convicted and given the death sentence.

My father was always hitting Marcus. Screaming things at him, telling him he was worthless, and that he should've died instead of his precious Junebug. I told him, when I was 6 1/2, that she was our mother, and that we loved her every bit as much as he did. He sunk to the floor, apologizing, over and over again.
"You should not be apologizing to me, you should apologize to Marcus!" I told him, expecting him to obey me, but instead he looked at me and shook his head.
"I was apologizing for letting us get in that car accident, not for hitting him! I don't regret that at all!" He said.
"The accident was not your fault, daddy." I said hugging him tightly. I hadn't noticed Marcus crying in the corner. When I did, I let go of my dad, ran over to him, and squeezed him in a warm embrace. I looked back at my dad and he was staring jealously. He was still hitting Marcus when I turned 8, and he had left me untouched, I was his mini June. On my eighth birthday, after all my friends left and all my presents were opened, my father looked at me and smiled.
"You look just like your mother, you know that?" He said.
"Yes, Daddy." I replied. People had cried just looking at me at the funeral because I looked like her. Looking like her had done nothing but cursed me. Later that night I was playing with my new dollies, and my dad came in. He sat down and played with my dollies and I for a while. He kissed me, but not like a father would kiss his daughter, but rather, his wife. He got up, shut the door, and locked it with a key. He brought me to my bed.
"Daddy, what are y-"
"Shh!" I was cut of by my dad shushing me. He went along, pleasuring himself, and trying to do the same to me, but it only hurt!

It was her eighth birthday. I didn't get birthdays anymore, my dad thought I was a murderer. What was worse was he was spoiling her, giving her everything she wanted. I saw the way he looked at her though, and I could tell that there was something more that he wanted, but hadn't gotten yet, and I guessed what it was. He wanted to sleep with her, the pervert! She was so young, and so innocent! She saw him almost the same as she did before the accident, just a little less because I didn't get birthdays. She was so cute, and I loved to be around her, but not like the way you're probably thinking. I was just the overprotective brother, that loved his sister a lot, and wished he could protect her from the dangers of her own father.
"Mommy, will you help me out of the toilet? Heeheeheehee!" Skylah asked my mother dolly. She loved to play dollies with me.
"Sure, darling, I'll get you out, and throw you in the bathtub, stinky!" I said in my best falsetto voice, causing more laughter from Sky.
"But mommy, I don't like baths!" She said in the best little boy voice she could muster up, and then she bursted out laughing again.
"Oh no!" I said, "I've gotta go, Dad's coming!"
"Awww, okay. Bye bye..." She said, pouting. I quickly dashed into my bedroom. It was right across the hall, so I cracked my door. I wanted to be able to see what was going on. He sat and played dollies with her nicely for about an hour. Then all of a sudden out of nowhere he leaned in and kissed her! I got up and swiftly started walking towards her. I didn't care how hard I got beat, I was determined that he wasn't doing to touch her. I promised mom that I would protect her. Just as I was reaching my doorway, the door closed and I started running I heard a key turn in the lock. I twisted the handle. I was screwed, there was no way for me to get in there. I was screaming into the crack of the door, and he yelled back that if I called anyone he would kill the both of them. I sat on the floor and leaned against the door, my eyes wide with a mix of emotions. Surprise, sadness, anger, hurt, sympathy, and most of all I felt betrayal. No one had betrayed be, I had betrayed myself and my mother. If she were there she would've been ashamed of me.

That first night, when he was through and had fallen asleep next to me, I carefully crawled out, so I wouldn't wake him up. I went to the door, and tried to twist the knob. It wouldn't turn. It was sort of noisy, so I looked back at my dad on my bed. I shuddered. It was such an awful sight to see. No daughter should ever see their dad laying naked and erect in their bed. I went to the window, and I unlatched it. I lifted it up and breathed in the cool air. I felt a rush of cold air between my legs, and I put on my nightgown. I crawled out the window onto the roof of the wraparound porch. I closed the window, and it automatically latched, so he would have no way of knowing that I wasn't in the room, or how I got out. I crawled over to my big brother's window, and knocked loudly. He woke up quickly, and once he saw it was me on the roof, he