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silvermoon's Journal


silvermoon's Journal

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1 entry this month
 

Concrete Angel

06:47 Jul 27 2005
Times Read: 598


Standing by the grave with tears running down her face. She prays to God to change the future.

---------------------------------------------

1 year earlier





It was finally the first day of school, and Mrs. Shelia Williams was excited to get back to teaching after a year break. She got to school early to get prepared for screaming second graders. By the end of the day she had a slight headache, but still loved her students. Specially a little eight year old girl named Dawn, pretty, but not beautiful. While preparing to go home, she thinks to herself that girl is surely going to be something when she is older. A week went by, the heat of the summer getting worse and worse. Mrs. Williams noticed that every girl and boy was wearing shorts and short sleeve shirts, except for pretty little Dawn wearing pants and a long sleeve shirt. She looked so happy, radiant, but it was a mask, you could tell that she was sad, the radiant around her was false. She was like a concrete angel. But the teacher ignored it and kept teaching class.



Months went by, the teacher noticed that Dawn was smiling, and talking to a boy during recess. It looked like they hit it off, the teacher was glad, she figured that she was just going through a stage but out of it now. "Talking and playing with other students, like any healthy second grader should." Shelia commented to a fellow teacher, about Dawn.



Time went on and Shelia noticed that pretty, happy little Dawn disappeared, and in her place was the concrete angel. But this time around she didn't become talkative and friendly with her classmates, she sat in the very back desk during class, and sat alone on the bench, with her first and only friend trying to cheer her up, during recess. The teacher became worried but didn't think too much of it.



Well, one day Shelia Williams noticed that Dawn didn' t come to school, she thought about going by her house and seeing if all was well. But she got disracted when the day went on, adn forgot. Than another day went by, now the teacher was really worried about Dawn thinking she might be sick.



"Dawn" said her mother, in that quiet, demeaning, dangerous voice she has. Dawn hid in her bedroom closet, hoping her mother would leave her alone. She was worried that her mother would punish her for running a fever and not being able to go to school. She was right! Her mother came, still calling her name but was she was getting angrier and her voice quieter each time. The mother opened the closet, pulled her out by the hair, yanking so hard, Dawn couldn't help but cry out in pain! That only made the mother madder, she planted her fist on Dawn's feverish face, calling her a stupid little bitch of a liar. Dawn seeing stars and not able to stand on her own two feet, started falling, her mother caught her by the throat choking her until she was gasping from the lack of air! When her mother finally let go, Dawn fell onto the floor by stove, unconscious. It was for the best, because no doubt if Dawn was awake through the rest of the ordeal she would have surely screamed so loud from the excruciating pain inflicted by her mother, that her mother would have done worse. Dawn awoke the morning in time for school, but she hurt so bad that she could hardly move. Her flushed feverish face was swollen, black and blue, and bleeding. Her lungs hurt so much she had a hard time breathing. Her whole body was scorched from the boiling hot water and burning paper that was dropped on her. She spent the day on the floor in her bedroom closet, her sanctuary, the one place her mother only went to when she really, really fuming!



The police came to arrest the mother for skipping parole, but she was dead from an overdose. The detective in charge searched the house for the daughter.



Standing by the grave, with tears running down her face, she prays to God to change the future. To give herself, Shelia Williams, and every other person who didn't want to get involved another chance. But it is too late, pretty, brilliant, young Dawn is dead. On her grave is the words, Concrete Angel.



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