Fifteen years old, and all alone,
I answered the door to a friend.
He knew my family all my life,
there was no reason to defend.
He looked at me in anger,
pure hatred on his face.
Instantly afraid, I ran to my room;
putting a distance in our space.
Running to the window, I yelled in fear.
He smashed the door, and scared me so.
His breath reeked from beer; so did his clothes.
He was on me in a second, and would not let go.
Hands around my neck, and gasping for air;
my life flashed before my eyes.
Instinct kicked in, I kneed him hard;
it was not my day to die.
The police were called; they came quick.
They had only been down the road.
He had already stabbed another friend;
to the cops, my story was told.
He went to prison, for the rest of his life.
My family never saw him again.
The scars he left me were unseen,
they have burned always, from within.
© Debra McLain
Excerpt from the book “To Conquer Or Die Trying”
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Photo Credit: © Alan Graf/cultura/Corbis