Chapter 1
"A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing." ~ George Bernard Shaw
I didn't choose this life, nor did I want it. The fact that you are told that you are a worthless being is heart shattering. I have been told this everyday, almost everywhere I go. My only safe haven from abuse is home, but i'm not sure what home is anymore...
I have been hopping houses since I was born. Sometimes, not lucky enough to be in a home. The doctors tell me that nearly everyone around me is perfect, and if I can afford it, I can be perfect too. The thing is, I've been living in shack after shack my whole life. Being cramped up in a room with 2 other people every night is horrible. Not to mention I am claustrophobic.
See, it used to be me and my mother. My 8th birthday was coming up when my mom informed me that she was pregnant. But it was already bluntly obvious after months of seeing her uterus become larger and larger. I helped her through everything I could, making her bed, doing dishes, stealing medicine and food, etc. There were days when she would scream at me for no reason, and others where she would be too exhausted to thank me.
She had sweet Lucy on November 11, 2611. Though society ruled her imperfect, she was perfect to me. If it wasn't for Lucy, I probably kill myself, I honestly would. Me and her are so close. Though she is 6, and i'm about twice her age, she is the world to me. She is the only one I can really be open to, and that really means a lot that she is open ears to my problems. At the same time though, she realized pretty fast that the world is cruel and life has no purpose. Thanks to me, not filtering and not dealing with my problems myself.
I always wished I could go to someone else to talk to, but it's not like I can go to anyone else. No therapist will help me because of who I am, and no citizen will help me, because I am ruled out. Though, I do have my mother to talk to, I just don't want to put anymore stress on her. She's gone through enough in the past.
My mother used to tell me stories about when she was a baby, her parents abandoned her when she was born because the doctors said that she had a rare mutation in her genetic code, making it impossible for her DNA to be mutated to be apart of the perfects. As you might of guessed, her parents were perfect by their skin, but not their heart. It still phases me how someone, who took care of you, who went through the pain and suffering for 9 months, who loved you so much, would just abandon you because of who you are. She still hasn't met her biological parents, but has no goal to. But I know she wants to so badly.
After 3 days of being left in a alley to rot, someone found her. Though, she does not remember her name, she knows that she owes her life to them. They grew up with the others, the imperfects, being fed by garbage left in the dumpsters on the sides of streets, collecting change in bushes and under cars. Times were extremely tough. She remembers walking by massive groups of people, petitioning outside of a governmental office, demanding that the imperfect be banished.
When she was only 5, her savior died from dehydration and all she had were some rags poorly sewed together as a shirt and pants, and a few coins found on the streets. Somehow, she made it by, and is who she is today, but I can tell she is emotionally broken. She didn't go into great detail about what happened after she was on her own but all she said was, "it was a gift from the Markith himself, that I am still alive today".
I ask her constantly about the rest of the story but she declines mysteriously. It's like the secret of life to me, i'm just waiting to find out how I am going to get by when my mother dies, which is any day now. I can't keep up with her constant demands for me to go to school, get food, get medicine, etc. I have to do almost everything for my family and all I get in return is thanks. Sometimes, I don't even get that much, but I care about my family too much to say something about it. The last thing I would want is to cause trouble within my family, when there is enough as it is.
My mother forces me to go to school daily, but I hate it. I am constantly picked on by other people. Even some teachers pick on me. Being called names like, ugly, too skinny, pale, weak, stupid, etc. There is one kid in particular, his name is Ronny. He is the leader of his gang who picks on me in and out of school grounds. One time I found a turkey leg hanging from a rope near a dumpster I used to scavenge food at. It was obviously a trap, but what did i have to lose? I hadn't eaten in days.
So I quickly ran to it and as soon as I got to it I had my face smashed into a wall by Ronny, and a lot of people laughing at me. The broken nose hurt, but the satisfactory of eating made me ignore the pain at the time. Then he said to me, "Do you see yourself? You are simply foolish kid. I am surprised you haven't slit your own throat with a knife yet. Oh that's right, you can't even afford a knife." There was nothing I could say, because it was true. And though I wanted to pound on him, I simply couldn't. He was perfect, and could K.O. me in to seconds if I tried. But in that moment, I had to stand up for myself. Even today, I regret doing what I did.
--End of chapter 1
