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The Abuse Diary

CAUTION: Not reccomended for children under 12

I watched him touch her so many times, in spots that shed never liked to be touched, even by herself. She squirmed and screamed when he started to touch her. I couldnt do anything since I was tied up. The only choice I had was to sit and watch her get abused by a man in about his early 40s.
I look back practically everyday to the day that she was finally killed after months of torture and sexual abuse.
I remember one particular event. The day the man raped her and started to screw her. That was her first and last time ever to have sex again.
I couldnt help but to watch the abuse that she was being put through. Hours after hours of constant sexual abuse by this sick, perverted man. Especially since she was only a young girl. She was 15.
I tried to do as much as I could, but it just wasn't good enough. I couldn't help-I wished I could have though. She died from sexual abuse on February 16, 1997. It was all my fault. I wanted to go to the party and I had to drag her along.
I wish I knew what she was thinking when this was going on. I wonder what thoughts crossed her mind. All I know was that she didn't want this to happen. The look of fear and pain in her eyes, the constant tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, her clothes all ripped and torn, her body bruised and scarred, and of course the lifeless motion that she possessed.
She was tied up and couldn't fend for herself. If only I was the pretty one. Then she could have lived. If I was the pretty one I would be getting the abuse, which I would hate, but I would have saved my best friends life. If I only wo uld have been pretty. I could have sacrificed my life for hers. Thats what true friendship is.
The day she died is so inescapable from reality. I cant stop thinking about it.
The man fingered her, kissed her, and touched her in the most inappropriate ways. She tried to kick him in the groin but was unsuccessful. He took his knife and cut her legs. The sickening smell of fresh blood was captured in my nose. There were deep gashes and cuts in her legs. She screamed and screamed. Those screams where permanent sounds to my ears. Then he started to touch her more and more. She cried and screamed for hours while he tried to screw her. I tried not to watch but something inside of me said I had to watch to make sure to remember what this asshole looked like so I could report him to t he police when I get out-that is if I get out.
Then next day when I awoke I saw a lifeless body sprawled on the chair still tied up. It was her. She was dead. Her legs all cut up, her face all cut up and bruised with sweat imbedded on her forehead, her boobs were all bruised and cu t up too, and the rest of her body scarred, cut up, and bruised. It was a horrible sight.
The man had taken off after killing her. Without a trace to be able to find him. I didnt know his name or anything. His face was nothing more than a permanent image in my mind.
What to do? I couldnt get out of the ropes so I couldnt call anybody for help. I had to wait.
I was nearly starved to death when somebody actually found us.
It was a young man. The first thing he did was untie me. He went to go call the police.
I instantly went to see her. I grasped her hand and put my head on it. I cried and cried. Why didnt you take me? I shouted out loud to God. Why? I started to cry more.
The young man came back to report that an ambulance and police car were on there way. The man pulled me back from her. Its okay he said. I hugged him for protection and comfort. I felt totally protected and comforted by hugging him. Hugging a complete stranger.
I had to thank him, but how? If he hadnt found me I could have been here waiting forever, and Id then eventually starve to death.
A couple of minutes later I could hear sirens of police cars and ambulances.
The police came running in. Following them was three ambulance attendents carrying a stretcher. They lifted her on to it. I watched as they took her to the ambulance.
The police asked me some questions. I told the police what he looked like and what he did to her.
The stranger who found me and her told the police how he was able to find them. He was walking down the alley when he saw a guy run out of the building. The man dropped the wallet. He picked it up and then went inside to see why the ma n was running. The man who ran out was the guy who killed her and the stranger had his wallet. Now hell be caught easily.
The killer was found two days later in an old warehouse just outside of town. He was put in jail and I heard that hes supposed to get the death penalty. I hope he does since he killed my best friend!
Its now been four years since my best friends death. The killer got the chair two years ago. Im back to normal health, but my life is still destroyed by all the abuse of my friend. If only I could have done something. If only I could. ....
I go to therapy every Saturday to talk about my best friends death and all that I saw that happened. I feel better after talking about it. Im glad theres one thing though, that I will never forget about her-my best friend.

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