Black eyes, busted lips, and broken bones these were the only things my father ever gave to me. Viscious blows and poisoned words made me scared for my life when he would continously come home in a drunken rage.
My twin sister didn't get beaten at all. Our father acted as if she wasn't even there. I was the only one who talked to her at home or at school. She was my opposite only in looks. She had sandy blonde hair, emerald green eyes, sunkissed skin, and average build. I, on the other hand, had jet black hair with hints of blue, fierce white blue eyes, snow white skin, and a slim figure on account I'm not allowed to eat through out the week.
In my opinion she got it easy. Yet that didn't stop her from playing the victim. I was cast aside and forgotten unless it was beating time. But, those times have past and now neither of them can hurt me.
When I turned 12 my father got remarried and they sent me and my sister away to a pretentious boarding school for rich girls. I hated it there and constantly got into fights, but my sister was, as always, ignored. Sometimes I felt so sorry for her.
Well that sums up my childhood, and brings us to the 'climax' of my life.
YOU ARE READING
Remember Me?
МистикаA series I am working on, this is about a girl who is abused through out her years and on her fifteenth birthday is confronted by her evil 'twin' yet when she stabs her twin she realizes she is an only child.
