Something Different

1 Let me know

"Watch it bitch." The man who smelled like rotten dish, dressed ugly-ly and wearing a bucket hat who bumped me said.

Asshole.

I started picking up the newspapers that I dropped. The fucking audacity of that asshole to tell me to watch it when in the first place he was the one who bumped me.

Once I picked up everything I check my list of residence whom I'll be delivering the newspapers.

Eight more and I will reach my qouta. I crossed the street while holding my mail-man rugged sling bag.

I sideline as a newspaper distributor around the town so I can have a little money in my pocket. I get 100 peso for each day that I reach my qouta. Just enough.

I rang the doorbell on the house and left the newspaper on the mailbox. I then left and moved to the next house. I did the same until I reaches the last house and checked the last on my list.

I smiled. Another fcking day.

I started heading to the newspaper print shop to submit my list. When I got there the kids from the orphanage too was submitting theirs so as an older sister to all of them I started collecting their list and pass it all together. We all left and head to the church. Today is wednesday and towns people will come so we have to clean the perimeters of the church.

I don't go to the church and pray, I hate the people inside. They hold rosary so tightly and kneel and pray so hard but when they go outside, they see us orphans as bastards living and roaming around. They judge us as mouth being fed by the government.

A boulder to everyone, 'The city will never move forward as long as you children live.' I never forget that. It was said to me on a breezy sunday, infront of the church.

I handed the kids the things they needed for cleaning while I took things I will need to clean the bathroom. As I have said, I don't like going inside the church.

I'd rather die cleaning this annoyingly dirty comfort room than clean inside the altars and the confession booth.

I went inside the comfort room and a there was a Lady inside. She was busy tying her hair in a bun so I bow a little and passed by her.

Little did she know I saw in the peripheral of my vission how her face scoff and seemed to mock me.

I started cleaning when I saw how the lady used her lipstick to write in the mirror.

It says: 'May God take you early so you will see your mother.' She even had the nerve to use God's name in wishing for my death.

She then hurriedly left.

This is why I don't like people-In this small city to be exact-.

People in this shitty city with a population of 1000, people doesn't like me. I'm the Governor's bastard daughter. They hate me.

I don't care anyway. That fact was pasted in my mind ever since the day I started growing up.

I sighed. Then sighed again. This has been life for me. Harsh and cruel.

I never understood why they put such hate at me when in the first place, I was not the one who killed the Governor's wife.

"Fck you." I mumbled not caring if I am in the perimeter of the church or if God is listening to me.

"Fcking fck you." I said again while imagining that old lady in death. I sprayed soap on the mirror and started wiping it before anyone will see and accuse me of doing sins-as they address it.