Unloved - 💞ON HOLD💞

1 The Lesser Me

Lizzy
I've never really went through a normal life as you can say. It was always child abuse and more from my dad. He hated me and blamed me for everything. He even blamed me for killing my mom, even though I saw him kill her in front of me. I wish that my life would change somehow but for now, I'm just gonna be bullied in front of the whole school, get a lot of injuries, have some nasty word shot to my face and then have stitches by my emotion therapist, no biggie since it happens everyday. But my teachers say that I need to have more confidence in myself, but how can I if I didn't grow up with that scenery? And to make things worse I'm one of the biggest nerds in school, which make me the jocks number 1 target. Sometimes I wish that I still had my big brother with me, but sooner or later I'll be in MIT with him. But for now, I just need to suck this up and make sure that I have my emotions in check.

The bell finally rang, time to get this other part over with. As the hallway emptied out, the basketball players Ken, Jeremy and Lester came to me as I placed the last book into the locker.

"Well if it isn't miss know-it-all, ready to go home yet?" Lester, the meanest of them all asked, even though Ken's the leader.

I rolled my eyes and sighed "Just get it over with please". They chuckled and soon Jeremy tugged my hair and threw me flat on the ground. I showed no emotion as they kicked me in the ribs and spine, at least this is all better than a whip being slashed over my back, I thought to myself sincerely. In about five minutes they finished up their business they left me wounded on the ground. When they were out of sight, I slowly got up, grabbed my bag and limped all the way to my therapist.

As I reached in her office she already had the first aid kit set out on the coffee table. While she was dabbing some of the rubbing alcohol she sighed at me.

"Another bad day huh Liz?". She was the only person who would call me that, and she was like a mother to me. Only 27 years of age and the best therapist person ever been with. I nodded my head and looked away. I didn't like showing much sadness because for a fact that I really didn't like remembering what triggered these emotions in the first place.

So I looked back up and replied "But it always happens, no matter what they won't stop, ever. I just gave up".

She shook her head and got up to get the stitching needle "Just like how you gave up on your father?".

I glared at her and replied angrily. "It's not my fault that I gave up on him, it's him that got himself into that mess in the first place".

She raised up my purple top and started stitching there too "You see, progress. Your learning how to open up different feelings, sure from negative first but we'll soon go up that ladder. Anger is a feeling, both with annoyance and skepticism. Soon you'll learn how to use those emotions in the right way and learn how to cope with them" she finished.

I looked up at her "So you said that on purpose, like a test?".

She just laughed "Yes sweetheart, it was like a test, but with showing different emotions, just like I said earlier ago. And there's another one, confusion. See, it worked didn't it?".

I nodded slowly, realizing that my emotions aren't gone fully after all. When she finished stitching my side, she volunteered to drop me off back to my house. My home was really simple, a small concrete house with a kitchen, a living room, two bedrooms and a bathroom. Alongside with a medium sized pool outside at the back because I don't like going out to the beach, too public. I slid my bag to the side, took off my coat and went to the kitchen to make some penne pasta.

I learned how to cook by my mom. She taught me different styles of International cuisine. Italian was easy, and so was Caribbean, but the others took a while. But sometimes it nice to cook for yourself sometimes, it just feels like home. Not like I want to remember home but I like to remember all those good times with Mom. My twin sister also used to abuse me because I was mom's favorite daughter, and my brother was never there for me. It's like nobody cared except mom. She always understood everything, from then to always. Sometimes I wish that I would have taken her place, instead of her dying with that knife slitting her throat wide open. That was the most tragic thing that I've ever seen in my entire life, even worse than the time when I saw Mom and Dad naked together. I shredded the white cheddar and placed it in the microwave until it melted into a thick, creamy sauce. I took it out and stirred it into the penne until fully coated. I filled my place and went upstairs to get homework done.

When I was finished eating and doing out my homework, I went to take a shower. I placed on my PJ'S, brushed out my glossy black hair and jumped into bed to fall into a deep, tiresome sleep.