Dear Diary,
I officially can't feel the pain. Did the beatings stop? No. Did I quit? Wish I could. Did I stop bleeding? No. They broke me because I am numb. I can feel small things like taps and bumps, but that's about it. I. Am. Numb. Broken.
-Dakota.

I close my journal and shove it into my purse. Even after all these years, I still only have the journal and the cafe. The very one I'm in. Ever since I was young, I'd come here and sit in the back with a drink in my hand. There's something calming about the cream colored walls and jazz singer photos. The cafe is my only escape from my cruel life. Even if I had to take a train from my town to here. My phone buzzes with a text and I quickly unlock my phone. Ugh. A text from Stephanie. She's your typical rich girl. Snotty, arrogant, and thinks she's better than everyone. I hate her, but I tolerate her. She's my boss's daughter. I'm their maid and have been since I was fifteen. It was the best job I could get. I don't mind cleaning since I looked after myself since I was ten.

My parents would fight or beat me every night before forgetting about me. The bloody body of a small girl. When I was fifteen, I ran away from Wolverhampton. I made it to Dudley a while later and got a job. I left two days after and went to London. I then got a job being a live-in maid for a CEO of a big company. It pays good, but if my job isn't done well, I get beaten if not raped.

Stephanie is his horrible 14-year-old socialite daughter. She is the worst thing in the world. I unlock my phone and check her text. Apparently, she needs me to clean the lounge, wash her laundry, and cook dinner. She's having some friends and she won't prepare for herself.

I sigh and slip my phone in my pocket. Slowly, I get up and take my drink to exit the establishment. My eyes keep to the ground in fear of attracting attention. The last thing I need is someone looking at me. Whenever they do, the worst comes out. It hurts knowing no one likes you because you're who you are.

My eyes on the ground prevents me from seeing the guy in front of me. We bump into each other at the door and I fall on my bum with my drink spilling onto my shirt. I groan quietly and look at my mess. I look up and see a mess of curls wiping some of my drink off him too. I stand and grab some napkins to wipe up.

"I am so sorry," He says and hands me my stuff in my purse. "I didn't see you there." I nod and continue wiping off. I take my bag out of his hands and put it on my shoulder. Without another look or word, I walk out of the shop.

Outside, I hail a taxi and jump in. I tell the driver to take me to London since I'm in Birmingham. Anywhere far away from my troubles is where I go to cool down. At the rate we're going, I'll be at London in about an hour and a half.

I turn on my iPod and play Kelly Clarkson to fall asleep. When I wake up, we're in London and I pay the driver. He drops me off and I walk up to my boss's mansion. Yes, I said mansion. He's a CEO. You really think he's gonna have a small house with a brat?

Inside the house, I walk into the room and set my things down so I don't have to carry anything while cleaning. My bag drops to the ground causing things to spill. I pick up to my bag and pick up my things. My chap stick, wallet, hair clip... Holy crap.

Where's my diary?

Notes

This is probably horrible. Tell me if this is good or not. I really want to hear your comments.