I sat hunched over the cold porcelain toilet my hands gripped around the edges tightly. My salted warm tears mixed with the water and vomit that had forced its way from my gut. I shut my eyes unable to face the world in front of me. I sat up, bring my hand to my mouth and wiping away the bile that rested on my lip.
***
"I'm Sorry!" I screamed. "I'm sorry I am not as amazing as my dear stepsister. She is always perfect isn't she? I'm trying..." my voice had faded with each word as his face changed color with fury. "You are not trying? You call these grades trying? You call this trying?!" he crumpled up the report card into a ball and threw at my feet. I flinched away for no good reason."You're 'trying' is shit! Your mother moved you here. Why do you think that is?" he rested his hand on the counter and i sank back into the table in front of the 4 double sided sheets that read 'i will get good grades.' . "i don't know."
"Because you were dragging her down. She moved you here because you were to much of a brat for her to deal with. She needed to get her life together and you were sucking the light from her hard work." he stated matter of factly. I had stopped listening to him though. I was listening to me. Images flashed in my head of my dear mother trying. 'It couldn't have been because me, right? She didn't want me to go. She wasn't passing me off.. She didn't wish me poor. She didn't want this.. She didn't do this.' i looked down my eyes darting around quickly trying to find away for another piece to fix better than this one did. My stomach clenched and tears threaten fall. He nodded. "Your mother begged me to take you off her hands. To teach you to become a good kid. But maybe you're hopeless." he shook his head and my father walked into his bedroom slamming the door behind him. I heard the shrieks of laughter from my step sisters, who were playing outside.
****
My back arched and I leaned over the toilet vomiting again. I was positive my stomach was empty, so i laid down on the bathroom floor. Forced sobs clawing out my throat and i clawed with my tiny hands at my throat. My stomach raised up and down, proof i really was, still breathing. But i wasn't getting oxygen. I was dieing. I was going to suffocate. I would die, worthless on the bathroom floor. I covered my mouth to keep from screaming in pain. Someone had stabbed me. They must have. I didn't hear them come in and they stabbed me. I clawed and my shirt pulling it up looking for the gash that should have been in my gut but it wasn't. My cheeks were starting shrivel and wrinkle from how long i had been crying, and they were raw from me wiping away tears. Trying to force air into my lungs but they had paralyzed me. I couldn't move, i could breathe, tears fell freely from my eyes again and they stung my raw cheeks. I couldnt see. The bathroom ceiling clouded and became a blob from the fluid coating my face. Accepting my fate, I shut my eyes tight and waited to die.
Suddenly I heard a voice. I opened my eyes to see my mother sitting next to me. She seemed to be smiling but i couldn't see her very well. My stomach no longer hurt. She had healed the stab wound allowing me to get oxygen. "I have a headache mommy."
"Have a tylenol kiddo. It will help your head. Get some sleep." she placed the quarter of the small white pill in my hand and it slipped through my hands into the folds of my shirt. I sat up to grab it, not to lose the magic pill. But it was gone. I looked up to ask her for another piece. But she was gone like she was never there. My headache was gone, and i was able to think clearly. Sleep had collected in the corners of my eyes suggesting i had fallen asleep. A dream.
I stood. Able to think more clearly. i flushed the toilet and looked myself in the eye.
"I can do this." i said to myself. I walked out of the bathroom. Silent and crept upstairs to my bedroom, where i climbed into the warm embrace of my blanket. And imagined it was a hug.
"I can do this."
