This isn't about me. It is about my best friend. Her name was Karan. She ended up running away from her brothers and father. See her father abused her and her brothers beat her up. I remember her telling me once that her brothers raped her. I told her to tell someone, but she brought up a very important point.... THERE IS NO ONE THERE TO LISTEN.
I did what I could. I gave her money, and shelter for the first couple of days. Then she told me something else... she was pregnant. I didn't know what to do. I told her that she could continue to hide out in my room... see my parents didn't think she was a "good influence" on me. So she did, and surely enough, she stayed for a short time.
I got a call about a week after she ran away from my house. She said she was having the baby, and she wanted me to come. I told her to call the ambulance or I will. She hung up, so I called one. Well, she went to the hospital, and had the baby 2 months premature. If that wasn't bad enough, the hospital found her dad and brother, and then called them down. I felt so bad cause I knew what was going to happen. But, there was nothing to do but wait.
Well, 2 weeks later she got to leave, with her dad. I remember her cell phone calling me, and over it I could hear her crying, and screaming for help. The switch of the belt... or something, and then it was silent... I freaked and didn't know what to do. Then her dad picked up, and told me that if I said anything he'd give me the belt next, and I wouldn't be so lucky.
I was scared and didn't know what to do. I never talked to Karan for around 2 weeks. Then she showed up at the door. She was on the run. Her baby was still in the hospital, and like cowards, we left it there. We ran away from Ontario, Canada, to B.C. Life was great. We were okay, and we planned on returning for the baby once we were strong enough.
When that day came, she did return. We got the baby, and returned back home. Karen got a boyfriend, who ended up being a total jerk. She felt hopeless, and the last thing she told me, was to take care of her baby.
I didn't catch on at first. But then, when I did, it was to late. She shot herself. I took the baby, and returned home, at the age of 17, one year later. But, to my unpleasant suprise, my family had moved. I was homeless, with a child, and my best friend's dad, brothers and boyfriend after me. To this day I am still on the run from them. I would hate to see what would happen if I did accidentally run into them.
But, like Karan said, no one will help us, so we can't go home.