My Name is..

Trouble Comes with a Price

ATTENTION READERS: TRIGGER WARNING!!
MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, AND ABUSE.

I just turned 11 and we've moved from place to place up until right now we're back where we started. Florida. The sunshine state even though the sun isn't always shining. My mother puts my new bed set together as i sit in the living room watching TV and eating some Mcd's she had brought on her way back from work. We've been living in this apartment for a year and previously lived in the apartment complex right next to ours. What are the odd's right? My mother finished my bed and heads to her room. I hear her talking on the phone already. She's always for as long as I can remember always been on the phone, we could be in the car or at a theme park and there she goes. It sucked because I always wanted her attention so I was always getting into trouble, at least in her view I was the problem child. I even burdened her with my "miracle birth" as she didn't know she was pregnant with me until giving birth even though she had her tubes tied. What luck for me right? An example, in the 3rd grade I had a white student claim that I stabbed him with a plastic spork. For those of you who do not know what a spork is, it's a spoon combined with a fork that they used to give us students over either separated utensils. Now why did I mention that the student was white? because I'm hispanic in a school filled with barely any diversity of my culture. My principle was white, the school sheriffs were white, my teacher at the time was white, my 2nd, and 3rd teachers in that grade were also white. You can see where it goes from there.

"Tiago why am I getting another email from your teacher about you not finishing your homework." "I have been doing it ma" I lied through my teeth knowing I blank sheets of mathwork and uncompleted english work in my school bag. Of course she didn't believe me and went through my bag anyways. She beat me with a hanger that night and a leather belt the next morning. She knew her limits and how to hide the bruises. she made sure I didn't tell anyone. Although at some point we had a CPS agent visit our home to do a welfare checkup because my 6th grade guidance counselor saw a couple of them, I of course blamed my clumsiness but wasn't believed or heard. I went to school that morning and saw the group of bullies that have terrorized me since the 3rd grade and I sprint into the middle school with no questions asked. I was a weird kid, and always have been frail and short tempered. None of them saw me and I sprinted straight towards the front office to hand them a note from my mother, I'd be missing school in a couple of weeks due to a surgery that a neurologist was going to perform on my head. I ended up having 2 surgeries that year and a third one the next year. That winter my english teacher would allow me to go into school a bit early with her because since I had the surgeries I wasn't allowed out in the cold for long periods of time. Those surgeries cost me my hair as I now have a scar in the exact middle of my head that's half the size of my palm... they definitely did not think that they were gonna scar me for life. Sorry bad pun. I worked my way through 6th grade as a C average student with no high expectations, I was still learning things and trying to be a kid when half my childhood was taken from me. By the time 7th grade rolls around half the school knows me as the weird undiagnosed kid with barely any common sense. I actually had more common sense than half the high schoolers in my county. I was actually already thinking about what I liked gender wise and what I didn't. It was weird at first because the first girl I had a crush on I didn't realize until midway through my 8th grade year. I got rejected but we're still close friends to this day. Anyways I got bullied in middle school and was always home alone due to my mother working from before I'd leave for school until late at night. I really didn't have friends besides a few here and there. As I said, I was always the trouble maker.