surviver

I can't stop. If I stop, I'm dead. I've been running for eternity. However, I can't stop. If I stop, I'm dead. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself, so let's go back to the beginning.My name is Annabell, but I go by Bell. I don't know my last name, I was found on the doorstep to an orphanage. St Helens' orphanage was dark and empty of anything resembling love and happiness, having said that you could predict my excitement when I was adopted at 6 years old. Mr and Mrs Smith they had a boy Tom smith, and he was 10 yrs old. Mr and Mrs Smith was bright and warm, but their soon, though quite seemed cold. Their house was big and lovely. the smell of cookies can hit you in the face as soon as you walk through the door. We did everything together, picnics, bike rides, and we went to the park. I even experienced my christmas. However, that all changed a year after being adopted. Mrs Smith got really sick one day and was gone within a week. We never really found out what happened. at least no one told me. After that, it was like the sun itself lost some colour. The smell of cookies stopped, and so did the picnics and bike rides. Mr Smith became cold after that, and he rarely came out of his office. I don't know what his job is, but I can hear him shouting on the phone. With Mr Smith in the office all day, it left Tom to do whatever. I got a bad vide from him right from the beginning and I was right because any time no one was looking he'd brake my things, hurt me and scared me but it was like he got a kick out of terrifying me he only got worse after Mrs Smith passed. He'd grab a fist full of my hair and push me. one time we was arguing on the at the top of the stairs. He destroyed a family picture I made of all of us before everything went upside down whilst I was shouting he got this look in his eye and grabbed my shoulders before I can process anything he shoves me hard backward. I hit every step on the way down, and when I hit the bottom, everything went black. I woke up in the hospital, Mr Smith was sitting on the hospital chair, and Tom was sitting beside him crying he was good at that, and turning on the water works when it suited him. My throat feels like sandpaper as I try to speak, but nothing comes out just this groan sound, Mr Smith jumps up immediately, cowering over me, asking me if I'm okay, do I need a drink, am I comfortable but all I could do ill stare at Tom's tearstained face. "What....happened?" I managed even though I already remember. "You fell, you tripped on the rug. If Tom wasn't there, I don't know what would have happened." Mr Smith replied a bit too fast. I stare at him like seriously. You have cameras everywhere he got them after Mrs Smith died he was paranoid, and something would happen to us. But I knew what arguing would have gotten me, what tom would do if I told anyone. I was only 10 what was I going to do. When we got home, Mr Smith carried me to my room as I broke my leg and had a massive bandage on my head where I had stitches from smashing my head off the floor. Mr Smith helps me into bed whilst Tom stands by the door with this triumphant look on his face. From that moment on, he could do anything and get away with it. I went through 10 years after that in hell. Broken bones, black eyes, and constant fear. I had my braking point when I turned 19 I was nearly 20, I just had to make it to 20 but 6 months before my birthday Tom came into my room, he leaned against the doorframe looking across my room then they land on me I feel his eyes everywhere on they stop on my chest then shoot up to my eyes so fast it made my jump abit "You know I've been thinking," he started, and I knew it was bad because thinking wasn't his strong suit. "we make great partners, don't we" he said already knowing the answer