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Yet again Iris felt like a dirty kitten thrown on the streets.

Yet again, she felt worthless.

Yet again, she was unwanted.

Yet again the blame was put on her.

Only nine years old.

Only nine years old!

She was supposed to be out in the backyard, running around, feeling the love from the sun and the earth beneath her.

She was supposed to draw pictures of her family and put them on the fridge as a memory.

She was supposed to push her younger cousin on the swings and chase her older ones, coming back home with scraped knees.

She was supposed to be a child.

Instead, she was moving again.

She was moving again because her own aunt refused to look her in the eye, claiming it was all Iris' fault for everyone's misfortune, that the little girl brought nothing but that.

That Iris was not supposed to be born.

Iris [TWILIGHT]Where stories live. Discover now