You have no I-D-E-A what I have been through. Nobody has. My daddy beats Mamma. Sissy's all knocked up. And my brother please. He smokes so much you'd think he was the herb in itself. But I ain't got no types of space to talk. I am just as screwed up as them. Except I don't get beat by a man for no reason. I'm not pregnant. Theres no way of that because I can't even get a boy to look at me. I definantly don't smoke weed. I'm not even allowed by the corner he gets it from. So that being my family is pretty messed up.
I'm Bethany Grace Ross. I am 13 going on 14 in July. Its October. You probably can't imagine what I look like. I am 5'1. Really short obviously. I have long brown silky hair. My face is the perfect circle and I'm thick. Not fat. I have no friends which means no social life. I'm ugly in my eyes because no boys want nor like me. So you can probably imagine what my "teenage" years are like. I got to John Harry Jr. Middle School. Not the best place to learn but the only place. I am pretty serious about school. I get all A's and I have never skipped or missed school. Or an assignment. School is my only get away. This is my first year in the Middle School because I'm in 8th grade.
-"Baby Girl!" said Mamma.-
That was Mamma call I better go before I get in loads of trouble.
-"Baby Girl TODAY PLEASE!!!FOODS GETTING COLD", she nagged.
Alrighty Peace 2 da middle east.
BG
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I dragged my feet down the steps. Only cause Mamma hates when I do that. "Baby Girl stop dragging your feet and get down here!" said Mamma.
"Mamma I'm coming! sheesh-I whispered the last part-"
When I got to the table I got a swift hit to the back of my head. It was daddy. He has been drinking again. He only hits me when he drinks.
"Thats for sassing your Mamma."
I wanted to cry but I didn't. I knew if I did he'd just hit me again. So I kept quiet and kept on keeping on ...as always.
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You know what I don't understand. How Mamma can still look at the pitiful man she calls a husband and I call a daddy? I mean he beats her. He's 3/4 drunk throughout my whole life. I mean when is she gonna thunk about her health and how she's doing. And by the looks of it Mamma ain't looking to hot these days. If you know what I'm saying. I think I wanna call Diface. But then me and Mamma would be split and I can't have that. Maybe I'll call the cops when he's drunk and tell them that my Daddy beats my Mamma. Who am I kidding? The cops don't come unless there's a black cop on duty. Or if it's a little ol white lady. So I guess I'm back at square one on this subject. What does it matter anyway? Nobody want to hear the short, black child speak her mind. But I'm tired and I gotta to get my ugly sleep.
Alrighty Peace 2 days middle east.
BG
