《The Entry Book》 22-4-2008 22-4-2008 I''m coveredwith bruises again. Is this what you wanna hear? Well, now I''m telling you. It hurts just as much as always. I don''t even know why I''m going with this. Just because the teacher said so doesn''t mean I should listen, right? According to you, I''m anti-social and I''m always some kinda trouble magnet and sometimes I''d show up with faint bruises on my face. So what? Is it really your problem or mine? Because of that, now I have to write this! Basically, she thinks that since my mind is ''disrupted'' and ''distorted'', I need to clear it somehow. You see now? I''m writing. But that''s not the only thing about this. Basically, this whole year I''ve been the words above so with the remaining days of this month and the month after, I''m gonna have to write entries in this damn thing! That''s not the only thing. She even put a limitonhow little entries I write! Apparently, with the remaining days of this month and next month, that''s the last month in school, I have to write at least 40 entries. What''s worse is that it has to have ''content''. Oh, and whoever is taught by this teacher knows exactly what she means when she says ''content''. In her books, when she says content it means the truth. What''s more messed up is that she somehow manages to catch you lying. She can catch a liar better than a lie detector can. I swear it''s almost terrifying. Almost. I''ve seen true terror. What I''m trying to say, is that this woman wants me to write the truth into this thing and if I fill it with lies, she''ll confront me.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. If I don''t write at least 40 entries if each entry is limited to be written for 1 day, even if I''m 1 entry short, she''ll call my parents. And you know what that means, it''s my death, probably get hanged. Or I get beaten to death. Or my arms will be split so I''d bleed slowly to my death. Or I''ll be drowned in cement water. But here''s why this is a crazy idea even more. If he finds me writing this toyouteacher, it''s the death of me as well. Father will think I''m indirectly reporting him and he''ll make my death slow and painful. Prison? He doesn''t give a damn about prison. Why should he? His intuition is incredible and he always manages to get the bruises off our bodies after he''s done beating us. In short, if I''m gonna escape death, I''m gonna have to write 40 entries beforeschool''sover, hand them over to the teacher, and burn it right after if she doesn''t wish to keep the book with her. During this period of time, I have to hide it. I have to hide my entry book, or what normal people would call a journal or even a diary. I don''t give a damn really, I just want to escape death. This hell can go on, but death is a totally different level. That, I cannot tolerate. However, this would mean I''m not obliged to write details. All I need to write is a vague truth. I don''t have to write about every minute of every action I took like the foolish insects these emotional insects are. I could just write a brief summary of what the day was. As brief as I can. With truth. That should be worth an entry. The only issue left is how to hide the entry book. I still can''t think of anything, but if I don''t think of anything soon, it will only be a matter of time before Father senses something odd, the sense coming from his sharp intuition, and confront me about it. If I''m gonna save my own life, I''m gonna find a way to hide this book, as fast as humanly possible. It''s gonna be a tough challenge, but I hope I survive. If this works out in the end, she''ll probably read this and call the cops and run an investigation. If I''m quick, I could just give the entry book to her and after she dismisses me, I''ll run. Run as fast as I can. I''ll just go as far as I could, I don''t care when or how, but I''ll run and wait. When a week or so passes, I may go back home, and hopefully, they''d arrest Father and I''ll never see his ugly face again. That is if the teacher even calls the cops. Knowing her, she''ll probably go right up to their doorstep, knock like a normal person, enter like some dangerous elegant butterfly, and chop ''em intomincemeat, clean out the crime scene, and surprisingly, no one would know it was her. She is such a person that would do it. As such, I''m surrounded by deathly people. The only difference is that I''m not too sure if you would kill them... I can definitely predict you''d do it. 23-4-2008 23-4-2008 Finally! I found a way to hide my entry book! Last night while I was doing homework, I noticed that both my entry book and my Kanji book are the same size and almost as thick. Plus, my Kanji textbook had a paper cover on its thick one that had the imprint and the title on, and that gave me an idea which worked. I carefully removed the paper cover off and unstuck the glued edges that are supposed to cover the edges of the book so it was plain paper and rushed to get it print. I made sure it would be printed with color and bought extra glue just in case using my allowance which I''ve been saving up all month for a moment in time like this. With the newly printed cover I stuck the edges carefully the same the original had it and once it was done, I put it in my entry book like I''m having it wear clothes. Perfect. It looks perfect. You could barely tell the difference! Haha! Although two Kanji books might seem suspicious to Father, that is if he does ever see the two at the same time, I could say that I thought of buying an additional one for if one got damaged and was not I the shape to be used. If I say something as foolish as a friend let me borrow an extra book, he''d rebut with something like ''you don''t have any friends!'' and might suspect me to have stolen one for no good reason, and use that as a lousy reason to beat me to a pulp. If I tell him that one would be a backup, all he''ll say is something like ''that better be from your own pocket or you''re dead!'' and when I show him my empty jar, he''ll just leave at that and leave without any further suspicion.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. I''ve already started memorizing his patterns. I''ve picked up on some of his habits over the years, but since you confronted me, I''ve been trying to memorize them harder. It''s been two days, and that''s all I need to start recalling his patterns and use them to my advantage. If my monstrous father is going to be exposed by the time 40 entries have been jotted down, then I must muster my full potential to make it work. By this point, it''s either work hard or die, and I''d definitely work hard. I''ve bruised again. So is my sister. This type of beating is a daily type of beating. It''s the only beating that could not be avoided. Every time he gives us this daily beating, he would force us into the bathroom to have long, agonizing cold showers, cuz apparently, cold heal wounds faster, and that actually works. And if we come back out and the bruises would still be visible, he''d throw us back in to take another bath, including some ice cubes from who knows where which would make the process faster. I''m not one who likes cold showers. I hate them. They''re too cold and it would be a tough challenge to stay under for so much as 3 seconds. Cold showers always make me painfully skip a beat and it makes my heart constrict uncomfortable and in alarm. What''s worse is that there''s even a time limit; I''m not allowed to stay any longer than an hour while trying to get the bruises to fade away. There''s no mercy in terms of ice-cold showers, even if it were winter. In fact, it''s a lot worse during winter. If the bruises aren''t clear in an hour, he''d throw us into the backyard onto the biting cold snow, where he''d press our bodies into the ice for long, agonizing seconds which feel like hours in the icy version of hell. Sometimes, he would skip the cold baths and just literally bury us in the snow for prolonged periods of time, which was the worst. I hate the cold, and I hate the heat. I don''t like anything, I hate most things in this world. The things that he''d use to harm me and sister make me hate everything. Well, except for that Cherry Blossom Tree way. You know, that little bridge over the small lake which is also lined with cherry blossom trees, with more cherry trees grown at the sides of the road after, which I''d cross every day on my way to school. I''ll have to admit, that''s the only place I actually like while the rest of the things in the world I hate. Anyway, I''m especially worried about my sister, for Father uses scissors mostly out of other tools he could use to harm her. But it''s okay, I decided to go full out of this. It''s not like I like this hellish life, I''d grab the first opportunity I''d get.