Savanah Garcia
She thought she was a Garcia
She was only just 9 years old when everyone forgot about her.
She's been bullied, gone through a heartache, been kidnaped, has a best friend dealing with cancer, her family has turn their backs on her, wh...
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- Rafael Rodriguez -
Sprawled out before me, was the house that I had been residing in for the past 5 years. I knew that behind this two story home, was a pool that was almost the entire size of the bottom floor, while there was a indoor pool in the basement, coupled with a games room, a small hockey rink, half a basketball court and everything that one child growing up could possibly need.
I knew that this wasn't the house that I had originally been destined to grow up in, as Emiliano had told me that we had moved many of times throughout his childhood, and that this would be one of the final moves for the children that were too live here, with us, once and for all.
I knew hard work had gone into preserving this white, middle eastern styled home from my mother, but also my father, as she had styled it. She had been architect before she married my father, and had told me that she had wanted this house to be big, but not feel that way, hence the idea for the long driveway that compensated for the wide house, that was white on white.
I took a deep breath in, as I shifted my little sister higher up onto my hip. She had passed out early into the car ride, after her and Benjamin had settled whatever war they had had going on since the moment they had woken up in the hospital, side by side. Any person walking past them could tell that they were not happy with one another.
But pride settled into my chest, knowing that I was able to walk through these front doors, after my mother father, surrounded by all of my siblings. Not just some, but all of them. For a while, it had felt weird, not being the eldest son anymore, and knowing that their was children that I had left behind, depending on me to make this right.
No one would ever say it to your face, but as the eldest son, it had felt like you were just there to fill a role. I knew that I was, after a while, filling a role, for people that couldn't have children anymore, as they had lost their own. They decided to take what they could, just to make more people miserable. They had made sure that my family had become miserable.
They had made sure that these children, especially the girl in my arms, would never have a normal childhood. That their lives would forever be tainted and haunted with the claws that they had sunk into their skin, the moment that they could. They had made them bleed, while coloring them in with black and blue markers, patching up the wounds where they thought it would be okay to touch a young child that wasn't there's.
"Rico hijo de puta" my little brother muttered in my ear, as we stood in the foyer, my parents already making their way into the kitchen, as I was sure that my mother was preparing to make a feast for her new children. They weren't new, but this was their first time, experiencing what it is like, to have a mother. I knew what it was like, as I had suffered through the same treatment.
Translation: rich motherfucker
The treatment of neglection. I had never been hit, just like Nicolas, but he wasn't as lucky, as when our old father had gotten so angry and aggressive, he had slapped Nic a few times, but nothing to far. Not far enough to the extent when you get examined in a hospital, that your real father is question about sexually assaulting you.
