Life 🥀

5 Years old

(Writers Note: Theres more of Charlie's POV tbh👀, please excuse my spelling,grammar,and vocabulary,thanks <3)((This part is when Charlie was 5!!)) ⚠️WARNING⚠️:FAMILY FIGHTING⚠️
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Charlie: I was born in 12/8/09. So yea I'm 5 years old. I was the 3 rd child that was born. I'm Hispanic..Mexican?? I don't really understand what's the difference,but who cares 🤷‍♀️. My mom got pregnant around her teen years and got my older brother. Then my sister.Then she got me; and then my young brother. I think me and my young brother are 2-1 years apart but I don't know that either. About my two older siblings,they live in Mexico! I've never met them or talked to them..but I'm sure they are very good people! My dad..he's okay. He drinks a lot. My mom hates that. Because of that they fight a lot. It doesn't end up well tho.But it's alright:).
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((2 weeks later))
POV Charlie: I've never been or heard of pre-K. I just went straight to kindergarten.My parents thought I was smart and would learn fast. My first language is Spanish so I didn't know any English words. I had to be taught how to speak,read,and write English. I wanna say it took..about..3 Months. I'm a very fast learner.Hey wanna hear some Spanish words? Hmmm here's some! Puta,Mierda,idiota,tú puta madre, and more! Awesome right?!!Today wasn't a good day. I was playing with blocks and I threw a block at a kid by accident. It hurt her.In the eye. I didn't felt sad or shame,I just..sat there,looking at her while she was covering her eye. I didn't hear anything all I heard was silence. I got in trouble. I kept swearing at the teacher quietly so she wouldn't hear me. All of the sudden I started crying. Probably because the teacher was gonna call my mother. I sat in the corner of the classroom.After that I don't remember what happened. All I know is that it happened.I'm scared.
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((3 days later))
POV Charlie:I'm under my bed with my young brother. You might've said "Why?" Maybe not but who cares in the end🤷‍♀️. But yea I'm under my bed. My parents are fighting, that's why. My father was probably drunk again.Like always. I told my brother to stay under my bed. I got up from my bed and slowly walked next to the doorway. They were yelling. They would yell at each other,then starts swearing and yelling,screaming at each other. And then the worst part is that they would start hitting,throwing,scratching each other. I'd cry and cry and cry. I was brave. Even tho I cried I was always brave to stop them from fighting. "YO VOY A LLAMAR A LA POLICÍA SE NO PARAN DE PELAR!." It would sometimes work not always. My uncle and grandpa were living with us too so they would help me out. They stopped. Both having bruises on their face and my fathers shirt torn apart. That's how bad it was. So I'd pray to God everyday. "Please God help me,help my father to stop drinking and make our family better." No help. It makes me think about myself and God.
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OKAY SO UMM THATS ALL IMMA HAVE TO DO THE NEXT CHAPTER LATER BYE- 🔪