Bottled Up

£2

(Not edited)

Life just never seems to go your way. Maybe for a little while, but then 'poof'... It all goes bad. You might see those people who smile all the time and seem happy, but are they really happy? To me it seems like a show put on.. A front for the world to see. I don't see the point of it though. Looking and acting happy for the sake of others. Nah, couldn't be me.

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Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact.

-William James

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I bet you're wondering what happened after everything went down. I was in the hospital for five days after I was shot. Mommy and daddy didn't make it like I did. I wish that I hadn't made it. I wanted to be with them. I almost jumped in with them when they were buried. How was I to live without them. They were the only ones left for me. The only ones I had. I was now in this world all alone. The money that we had was put into burying them and their headstones. I don't know what happened to the rest of the money. Everyone who showed up to the funeral were strangers to me. They didn't even know me.

I was put in foster care immediately after mommy and daddy died. I had no family. There was no close friends. No one could take me in, so that's where I ended up. Jane Beams home For Girls. The worst place possible to be. Your stuff wasn't your stuff when you entered that home. I lost all of my possessions. I only was left with three things from my life. My purple teddy that I had gotten for valentines day. I gift from daddy. My heart necklace that I received for my fourth birthday. The last family picture of me, mommy, and daddy. That's all that remained of my past life. Past life is what I like to call the days before everything was destroyed. I was basically living a new life.

I had stayed in the group home until I was seven, doing everything I was supposed to do. Going to school and coming straight home. There were 100+ girls in that home, but I only saw around 45 a day. The owners didn't care enough to keep track of us, as long as they got their money. My first night there, I was jumped. I know what you're thinking. "Who would jump a five year old?". I was picked on and pounced on at least once a week until I was six 1/2 when they finally go tired of picking with me. I tried to fight back sometimes, but it was no use. Around the time they stopped picking with me three new girls had moved in. They were the new targets. I was glad of that.

I started roaming the streets at age seven. Looking for anything that could bring something to my life. Anything. What was I thinking? I was thinking about how I was sick of going back to that place. I was thinking about how I didn't have anything to live for. No mom. No dad. Nothing. I was in this world all alone.

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It was a Friday and I had just gotten out of school. My daily ritual was to explore the streets or go to the park until I got bored or tired. Where I lived there wasn't a safe place to be at night. But I didn't care. I just hated being in that home with those girls. I had no friends. I had no one. That day I had stayed at the park playing by myself until the street lights came on. That's when I left the park. When all the men started smoking and having drinks under the shelter. That was no place for a little seven year old girl to be. Especially at that time of the night.

I was walking back to the home. The street lights on this side of town was scarce. The little lighting was a result from the teen boys playing target practice with their guns. I was usually at home by this time, but today I had lost track of time, my mistake. As I was walking you could hear the men who had something to drink a little earlier than the rest. I tried to pick up the pace before I got caught in something.