My life

Why me

I cleaned myself up as quickly as I could. Every breath hurt, sharp and shallow, like my chest was caving in on itself. I was pretty sure my father had broken one of my ribs. I knew better than to ask for a doctor. They never would have taken me. Instead, I searched online in secret, wrapped my ribs as best I could, and forced myself to keep moving. Pain didn't matter. It never did.

Even though my family hated me, I still made sure the little kids' birthdays were as special as I could make them. It was the only way I knew how to show love without being punished for it. My little sister loved pancakes and bacon more than anything, so that's what I made for breakfast. I wanted her morning to feel warm and safe, even if mine never did.

I scrubbed the kitchen and living room until my hands ached. By the time everything was done, it was almost 6:50 a.m. The house looked perfect to me, cleaner than it had ever been. It felt like proof that I was useful. That maybe I deserved to be there.
My little sister was the first one downstairs. Her face lit up when she saw her plate. I had made her pancakes shaped like a castle just for her. She smiled so big it made my chest hurt in a different way. She felt special. That was all I wanted.
Then everyone else came down.
As usual, they complained. They pointed out invisible messes. They spilled things on purpose, just to give me more to clean. Every time I tried to grab myself a plate, something else ended up on the floor. Another excuse. Another reminder.
By the time everyone finished eating, there was nothing left. I skipped breakfast without saying a word. I cleaned the kitchen again, wiped the counters, picked up the crumbs, and swallowed the hunger like I always did.
After that, I went upstairs to help my little sister get ready.
That was my favorite part of the day. My younger siblings hadn't learned how to hate me yet. They were gentle. Kind. Around them, I felt like I could breathe, like I was almost normal.
I helped her into a beautiful blue princess dress and slipped her flats onto her feet. I braided her hair into long, neat braids and walked her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She laughed and talked the whole time, completely unaware of how heavy the world felt to me.
Once she was ready, I went to get myself ready too. I made sure I looked presentable. Invisible, but presentable.
Because no matter how much I was hurting, the day had to go on.