Young Writers Society

Sorry spellcheck didnt work so I apologise for mistakes but please still add to this.


Chelsea didnt know what think how to feel anymore he had ripped it from her along with her innocence. Her dignity was no more and her father a criminal. How could he do such a horrible thing to his one and only daughter. Adults where ment to do that together of concencus for plesure for both. Not to eight year olds. Chelsea sat on the floor the flashbacks to that horrid day playing out in her mind like a movie.

"Honey, are you coming down to lunch?" His sickly sweet voice called up the stairs and Chelsea wriggled further into the corner of the room, hugging her knees to her chest, her clothes still discarded on the floor. If she still had a mother to run to, perhaps things would be different but she didn't and she didn't know what to do.

"Come on Chelsea, get dressed and come down," her father commanded. Did he not realise the wrong of what he had done? Or was it Chelsea who was over-reacting? The little girl turned the thoughts over and over in her head.

"If you're not feeling well, a warm bath will help. Should I run the water?" Her father called again.

"I... I can do it," Chelsea said, her voice trembling as she gathered herself and crept towards the bathroom.

"Good girl."

Chelsea made her way over to her bedroom door. She was trembling all over. Chelsea tried her best to keep the terrible images out of her head-concentrating on the short walk through the hallway, past the stairs and into the bathroom. The small girl gently tiptoed her way down the hall. She tried not to make any reasons for her father to come upstairs. The shaggy blue carpet sunk under her bare feet, a terrible silence drifted past her.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Her father asked.
Chelsea turned around to face her father. His face had a playful smile on it and his voice seemed almost cruel. Chelsea looked away.
"No, I am fine." She said softly.

Chelsea walked into the bathroom and turned the water on. She sat down on the toilet and brought her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her knees, buried her face, and began to cry quietly.

"Honey? Are you ok?" Her father's voice called from the other side of the door.

"Y-yes sir." She said as she got up and locked the bathroom door.

A strange sense of security floud within Chelsea. Having something that can physically block her father from her sight gave her the strength to stop crying. The door could only be opened from within the bathroom, so her father could not sneak in. Slowly the little girl took off her close and stepped into the bath-tub.

The hot water burnt Chelsea's cold skin as she stepped in. She winced as she slid down further into the tub. She quickly bathed and got out of the bath. She threw on the same clothes and opened the bathroom window. Looking down she relized that the jump was to far. She looked to the left and saw a long silver pipe that led all the way to the ground. I could slide. She thought. She needed an escape, somehow.

The small girl designed a plan- how to escape and where to go.
"I'll climb out the window and make my way towards the long silver pipe and slide down it. Then I could take the bus to my Aunt Kate's house...." Chelsea thought.
She gripped her arm." The only problem is that my bus pass is in the kitchen... down stairs with him."

Despair soared within the small girl's cold body. Her plans already had a flaw, and a hard one to fix too. Then a quiet thump outside the bathroom door made Chelsea flintched. Her father was waiting for her. Disgusting thoughts in his messed up mind.
Chelsea had to escape today; right now or her 'father' would do what he did last night again.

The girl faced towards the window, and as she took in a deep breath she began to climb towards the silver pipe- and perhaps freedom.

Chelsea walked closer to the pipe. She grabbed it and slid down. The second she hit the ground she was off. She ran as fast as her small legs could carry her. Then she heard it, her father yelling and his large jeep crank up.

Chelsea ran faster as the sound of the jeep speeding towards her closed. Panic swept through her moving body. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. The pain caused her eyes to tear up and her heart to race. Then her father's jeep sped past her and stopped in front of the wary girl. The man that was once her father, jumped out and dashed towards her-his arms wide open. All Chelsea could hear was the sound of her heart- beating ever so quickly.

She quickly thought out her plan. She turned and ran the opppisite way. There were houses and people around. She could scream. Scratch that, she couldn't. Mrs. Peterson's house came into veiw. She ran up to the door and began fratically beating on it.

"Please answer." The girl whispered.
But there was no answer. Mr. Peterson's house was empty- quickly Chelsea dashed away from the door and to the next house, that she believed someone was home in.

After a few bangs on the next houses door, the door swung open. An old woman with white hair was standing in the doorway, with a confused look in her eyes.

"Please help." Chelsea cried.

"Yes? What is it deary?" The elderly woman asked.
Chelsea sped in past the lady.
"What are you doing?" She asked Chelsea.
"Close and lock the door." The girl told the elderly lady.
The lady nodded and quickly closed and locked it.
Chelsea gazed over to see a phone on a coffee table in the living-room.

She ran to the phone and dialed 911.

"911 emergency. How may I direct your call?" A female voice asked.
"The police." Chelsea shouted.
She waited for a few seconds." Yes what is your emergency?" A man asked.
"Um hello! Yes my father is trying to hurt me, please help!" She yelled.
"Remain calm, we will be there shortly." He finished.