Wow...
Here is what I think, a child who is now all grown up, comes back to her house which is now emtpy. The place she ranaway from because her parents had abused her, and saw no way out. Trapped in that house she called hell, until the police came and rescued her, but she had once again been thrown away. In the system she was quite and sometimes wished that she never had been born. If it wasn't for that policeman she wouldn't be here. She looks through her house, then she's in her room, and remembers the beating and the sexual abuse that her parents let her take. And yet she still loved them. Well, into her teenage years, going from foster home to foster home, she got more and more depressed. She wanted freedom, not sympthy that she got from other people. She got pregant when she was sixteen, and had a miscarriage. She was about to commit suidcide when her parents pumped her stomach. Now as an adult she carries scars from cutting, but now she regrets not that she never really had a childhood, or her parents weren't parents, or that she was never loved for who she is and not for her body, but she regret, not ever saying I love you. She heard the words from other people, but she never said it herself. Maybe she should've died, but now she's a wealthy women with adpoted kids of her own. It turns out with years of sexual abuse she had aquired AIDs. She curls up in her old bed and cries so much, that she knows that she will never get out of this bed. "I should've died here, everyone else did."