A Walking Tragedy

Her life rivaled one of a tragedy. It started like this:

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She was born on October 31st after a hard childbirth.  

Her mother whispered to the baby girl, how much she loved her and to never give up. 

A few minutes later, the nurse came in and saw a dead mother holding a crying baby. 

The girl was already destined for a life of pain and suffering. 

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The baby was a year old and she already knew what hatred was. Her father was never around and her grandmother always yelled how she wasn't wanted by anybody.

Somehow she understood that. 

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She spent her second birthday at her grandmothers funeral.

People cried and grieved the loss of "an amazing woman".

She cried because nobody had bothered to feed her and change her diapers.

She had been forgotten. 

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Her earliest memory was at a prison when she was three. 

Men and women in orange were everywhere. People in blue uniforms and weapons ushered the prisoners around. 

The officer with her was a woman with blonde hair and cruel sneer. She followed the lady to a room where her father was. 

He glared at her and screamed that she wasn't wanted by anybody or anywhere. 

She threw the handmade card at him and ran from the room. Again. 

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She looked up from her Barbie to see her foster dad hitting her foster mommy. 

She knew that she was supposed to quietly leave the room and hide in the upstairs closet. Mommy had said to wait there until she came to get her. 

But instead she ran right at her foster daddy and yelled at him to stop hurting his wife. 

So at age four, she became a victim of abuse.

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Her biological father had been released from prison and she went to live with him.