The Bright Side

Four

TW: Physical abuse. Skip to "end of flashback" if that makes you uncomfortable.
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The words ring in my head like a dvd playing on loop.

Attention whore.

You're dressed like a slut.

You're worthless.

The words are like punches, leaving bruises behind in their trail, all over my body.

My window ledge is quite uncomfortable to sit on, the hard wood makes my tail bone and butt hurt after a while.

School ended an hour ago.

No one else is home yet, which I am grateful for.

I enjoy being alone in my thoughts a lot of the time. Over the years I had to get used to it and find the beauty within it.

Except after my encounter today with Madeline all the memories came flooding back to me. Now my thoughts have a strong grip on my throat, and they're not letting go.

There was a time when I was younger when I had thought that my father was a good man.

He would read me Spanish books from Colombia before I went to bed. He would tickle me until I was crying laughing. He would give me warm hugs.

He made me feel safe.

Life changes though. People change too. Eventually people show their true colors, sooner or later.

As a kid I would see the way he talked to my mother, but I didn't notice anything was wrong until I reached second grade.

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. It's implanted in my brain as one of my most vivid memories.

It's truly agonizing how we tend to remember our worst moments and memories in life rather than the moments in life that brought smiles to our faces.

The sun is shining brightly on my face as I sit on the window, my legs dangling out, hitting the siding of the house with the heels of my feet.

The wind pushes my long hair away from my face as the memory replays itself in my head for the tenth time today.

- Flashback, 2nd grade, 10 years ago -

The wind flowing through my hair feels really nice.

A smile rests on my face thinking about how kind that girl was in class today.

I asked her if I could borrow some of her art supplies for my drawing and she smiled at me and said sure.

People like her remind me that there are nice people in the world.

She probably forgot who I am already, but I don't think she realizes how much sharing her pencils meant to me.

I can't stop smiling.

My thoughts of the nice girl who shared her supplies with me are interrupted due to the sound of my mom and dad talking loudly to each other down the hall.

Hm, I guess I didn't hear them come in earlier.

Turning around on the window I jump back inside my room and pull the window down so no robbers come in and steal my books and stuffed animals. That would be tragic.

I think today I'll ask dad to teach me how to ride a bike. He said that in Colombia he would ride bikes with his cousins all the time and eventually became really good at it.

I want to be really good at it too, so then I can make ma proud of me.

Walking past my mirror I glance at my appearance. Today mama did my hair in two braids before school. They looked pretty earlier except now they're all frizzy from the humidity outside.