I stole a shirt from my Mother.
It was white, nearly sheer except for at my chest. It dipped low, and it only had 3 buttons before it cut a triangle exposing my midriff.
Downtown, I danced with my friends.
Jessica's parents came, and all us kids gathered around them.
Her Dad's eyes moved up my body. "If you were my daughter, you wouldn't be wearing that shirt."
Instantly I felt embarrassed, I raced to my old house.
All the clothes I had there were in the trash, but I found an old t-shirt that still fit.
When I came back, I showed him.
"I changed my shirt."
He just sort of smiled. "You didn't have to do that for me."
YOU ARE READING
What My Mother Forgot
Non-FictionBefore reading this, you should know... This is not a happy story. There is no happy ending. Simply put, this is a chronological account of the abuse, neglect, and bullying I suffered at the hands of loved ones from birth to 17 years old. It does no...
