My mom had me when she was fourteen years old, and my dad was fifteen. Although my mom was young, I wasn't her first child. I had a brother just 18 months older than me named Austin. My mom named him Austin because her favorite movie was Austin Powers and she named me Mya because that was her favorite singers name. A little corny if you ask me but, oh well. At least she didn't name me after a country or her favorite food.
Austin and I grew up to be best friends. Which is a little ironic considering the fact that I haven't spoken to him in three years. Sad right? I learned to accept it over the years, but every now and then it crosses my mind. How could my first and only real best friend just forget about me? Austin and I have been through any struggle you could think of, together. We starved together. Made messes and cleaned them up together. Failed tests and lied about it together. We even burned the last package of ramen noodles together. Sounds hard enough as a kid , right? Wrong. I wish that was the worst but of course it wasn't.
Austin was there for it all. He watched me get raped repeatedly as a seven year old little girl up until I was thirteen in my moms room while she was at work. We watched our mother get her head put through the dirty walls of Boston way apartments when her and the man she was with got into it. We watched my mom sell herself every Friday night on asbury avenue to get food on the table. We even ran away together and lived at the park on the beach in asbury when Sam used to beat on Austin, my mom and I .
YOU ARE READING
Broken Soul Looking For Love
Non-FictionBroken Hearts , Broken Families & Broken Souls . #ThisIsMyStory My goal is to reach out to those who relate to my story and allow others to understand there is in fact a rainbow after the storm. - {Based on a true story }
