I started hanging out with this girl from the cheer team. Gabby.
She was wild and everyone loved her.
Even when she was horrible to them, they worshipped her.
She was also an addict.
It gave her, and her friends, great pleasure to "corrupt" me.
I never brought her to my house.
I knew if I did, my cool-girl persona would be toast.
She and her other friends already made fun of me, and that was just about how I dressed and wore my makeup.
I could not risk her seeing my childhood bedroom or the inside of my dad's house.
Plus, my mother would know right away that Gabby was an addict.
So when she asked to come over, I told her I'd ask my mother. And then, a day or two later, I said that I'd asked, but she'd said no.
Gabby was more than a little mad.
"How dare you," she said. "I made you."
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...
