Don't Listen to Your Heart

Mama, We All Go To Hell

A slow creepy song starts playing.

I start walking the hallway slowly with a smirk on my face and a gun in my hand.

My mind starts playing an old scene of my life.

*Flashback*

I'm in my room reading an horror book on my bed when my uncle comes in.

"You're full of shit. What are you reading this time? Some other psycho story?"

"It's not a psycho story" I sceptically say ignoring his presence.

"Look at me when I talk to you" he madly says pushing me on the ground,

"What if I don't want to" I reply with a mad tone as he stares at me with evil eyes.

He soon grabs me and strongly pushes me against the wall.

"Who do you think you are? One of those psycho of your books? You would never have the guts to kill someone. Don't act like you're the strong one. You're just a worthless human being" he whispers in my hear with a creepy tone,

"And you would?" I ask back with the same tone, he laughs.

"You're just a girl, you're weak. You would have no chance against me. I'm too strong for you" he smirks pushing me on the ground again.

"See you in hell" I madly whisper as he leaves the room.

*End of the Flashback*

I remember pre-k's teachers teaching me what 'good' and what 'bad' meant.

I've always been a really good girl, and I still am.

Only one little difference: hate changed a part of me.

I love a lot of things, and, despite I've been hurt and knocked down by life more than I can even remember, I don't hate my life.

There was a period of my life when I used to blame it all on myself.

I actually thought I was the only one to blame for anything bad that happened to me.

But, one day, it all changed.

I started wondering and thinking.

It's not my fault if people treats me like shit.

It's not my fault if bad things keep happening to me.

What can I do about it? Nothing.