Cold sweat dripped down my face and coated my body. My breathing heavy. My mind scattered. I wish it was over. Why can't it be over? The incident is over but everytime I close my eyes I relive it. Talking about it wouldn't help me. I don't need help. I don't deserve it. I deserve emptiness and pain. That's what they've said and I believe it. How could I not? I mean look at me.
Scars two inches long covered almost half of my body. People looked at me with disgust. Only because my skin was marred and darker than theirs. Anytime I walked by they whispered malicious things about me. So now I rarely go out. What's the point? No one cares. They all wish I'd drop dead anyway.
It wasn't always this way. At one time I thought I was pretty. That they loved me as much as I did them. How naive I was. After the new baby came they tried everything to get rid of me. Leave me stranded when we took trips. Locking me in the basement or attic. Starving me. Torturing me. Until someone decided enough was enough.
From the very beginning,it was a set up. I thought I was helping. And I was,just not in the way I hoped. Now I'm stuck in this place and they're out there living the life. I know it's my fault. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't light enough. The only thing they were ever happy about were my eyes. Clearly it wasn't enough.
So I spent my time trying to get better. Trying to be what they wanted. Thinking if I was good enough,they'd take me back. Apologize for mistaking me for someone I wasn't. But that day never came and I eventually gave up. It was then I realized I was alone and would always be.
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Pretty Is
Narrativa generaleRochelle grew up in a loosely educated and sheltered life. She wasn't allowed to do things her siblings could. She was obedient and did whatever her family asked. She didn't see that they were mistreating her until it was too late. Devin grew up not...
