His Broken Girl

The Broken Girl

In more ways than one you could say that my mother was a terrible mother. She wasn't exactly a role model or someone anyone could look up to. She wasn't the perfect mother figure, hell she wasn't a mother figure at all. I watched as I grew up how my mother constantly brought home different men and would leave throughout the whole day for 'work'. She didn't care for me, or if I grew up in those horrible surroundings.

I never understood why my mother did the things that she did. Why she seemed to clutch on to alcohol like if it was the only thing that kept her sane. Though it was obvious she was far from sane. I never understood why she didn't love me like a mother was suppose to love her child. I never understood, when she brought Steve home and let him stay, why did she let him do those things to her? Why she let Steve do those things to me?

Despite all these things that my mother did to prove that she didn't love nor care for me, I still did. I still loved my mother because she was my mother after all. She taught me some things that I only learned through the hardship she gave me. Though I don't know if its a good thing or not, my mother taught me to shut people out. That if the one person who was suppose to care for you doesn't than no one will. So I thank my mother for making me the hard shell I was today. Thanks to her I've built walls so high nobody could climb them. Thanks to her I don't know what love and affection is, and I don't believe I ever will.

Even though I never got an answer as to why my mother did the things that she did, I never even got the chance to ask her. And the last few weeks of her life didn't seem like a good timing either. As my mother was barely hanging on to life in her bedroom, I wanted to ask her the one question I wanted to know all my life. Why? But I never got around to it, my mother and I would barely speak and now her dying would make me want to speak to her? It didn't seem right.

Though there was one occasion that I almost did go in her room, it was day that they read her will. That was the day that I truly did not understand the things that she did. And I knew then that my mother did not have my best interest at mind, ever. That was the day that I really wanted to ask her why. Why had she left me to the monster that made my life a living hell? Why did she leave me to my stepfather, Steve?

But again, I couldn't bring myself to ask. So the answer remains unknown and before I knew it she was being buried 6 feet underground. And maybe there was no way I'd ever know the answer or maybe someday I'll get the answer I was looking for.

That was 1 month ago, my mother's funeral was 1 mouth ago. Steve didn't seem all that upset about it, except the fact that I was now in his custody. He didn't take that news too well, in fact he took the news out on me. And the bruises were a light yellow now. Something happened in that funeral that changed my life in more than one way. It changed it so drastically that right now I was preparing to do the most reckless thing I've ever done in my life. That day I was saved.

(Flashback)

All it took was one simple eye contact from Steve and I couldn't hold it anymore. I turned on my heel and darted down the field, the tears stinging as the wind blew in my face. This was it. My mother was officially dead, and I was left in the hands of the devil. I knew what was coming tonight, my body was still aching from last week.

My whole body was shaking as I collapsed on dirt behind a building in the cemetery. If my life was bad before and I thought it couldn't get any worst this just happened to be thrown in. My life was going to be miserable until I turned 18, and that wasn't for another year. And I knew that year was going to be hell. My sobs shook my whole body, and I felt like I was breaking. And in that moment I realized that I've always been broken.