"𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗷𝘂𝗺𝗽 𝗽𝘂𝗱𝗱𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂."
Chaos may be the only way to describe Clailea Del Rosario's 9 years of life.
In a nasty divorce, somehow Clailea's druggie mother w...
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You know that feeling you get when you know something's going to go wrong?
Every step you take is calculated as to not upset the universe, as if one wrong move can have the world crumbling from below you.
The floor I'm stepping on is weak, one wrong step and I'm done for, one slightly larger step and everything goes wrong.
On edge.
Your heart beats wildly, your hands shake uncontrollably.
That's how I feel all the time.
They can easily throw me out, from a movie I watched it's to my knowledge that I can end up in an orphanage if they decide that's where I should be.
I've been trying to be good, so I can keep my room. I'm surprised they haven't used my safe space against me, seeing as I've spent most of my time in here.
Zara comes into my room, or my secret room when he sees I'm not in there, to give me meals and help me eat them.
He thinks my eating habits are getting better.
I don't have the heart to tell him I've puked the last 4 meals he's brought up here.
I assume the flushing of the toilet is seen as me just going, as if they're even listening to see if I'm alive anyway.
I'm sure they aren't, because my coughs for breath have progressed from over the toilet seat, to just happening randomly.
It's weird, because my body still thinks I'm with mommy, and it gets these random splurges of time where my mind does too.
They're scary, but I'm okay.
I'm alway okay.
I have to be, don't I?
The words of my book bring me back, and I groan when I realize I zoned out for the fourth time.
I keep re-reading the same two paragraphs over and over again.
The screen on the armrest lights up beside me, and a smile makes its way onto my face without my knowledge.
I lazily walk toward it, carrying the blanket with me as I had been laying on the bean bag. I did move the bean bag more toward the couch so I wouldn't have to walk very far.
I've gotten very lazy.
I crawl onto the couch, having it earlier layed out into a bed, and flop right onto my stomach.
I lift the screen, it still connected to the couch but now propped up and see a message from Coco.
It's a photo of him and Antonio, Coco making a funny face and Antonio laughing at him.
My smile widens, I've been waiting for this message. Coco sends daily pictures to me, mostly of him and Antonio but occasionally with my other brothers.
