Diary of Anne Miller ( sad story)

Chapter Five

Anne Miller (summer) 2009

***

  When I was about five or six I remember my mother telling me a bedtime story to get me to sleep. It worked all the time so, she retold it the whole time and I really did enjoy it.
The story was about a peasant and a can of water, the can of water was a reward for all her hard work and the reward was by her choice but she chose a cam of water than anything better.

Nobody knew why she chose the water but nonetheless she kept to herself with her water.
While everyone else choose jewels, money, and luxuries of some sort she chose water so she could sustain everything she needed to. She drank a little bit, baked a loaf of bread, and watered the garden.

When the water was all gone, she waited patiently for her crops to grow. The crops did grow, but in place for her carrots a beautiful flower grew and
It seemed almost magically, so the peasant woman kept the flower.

Turns out, the flower was indeed magically. The flower was a gift from her King because she wasn't selfish.
The flower from then on supplied her with anything she could ever want for the rest of her life.

Why did this put us to sleep?

I'm not quite sure but I know it reminded me of how there isn't selfish people in the world if you look hard enough; sadly, I learned, there was no hard looking no matter how hard I searched I found nobody with those scarce values.
I then on decided to be that way.

Soon, Anne, I realized that I lost that value. I didn't know how to get it back; so, I carried on with this act of mine.
But there was one thing I learned; selfish people are the most popular.

  "I think we should skip the party tonight," Callie casually suggested, I furrow my eyebrows. "Why not? I was gonna see Dan --" She stopped me with a hand in my face,
"Anne, it doesn't take a genius to figure out you obviously don't like Daniel, you've been leading him on for two weeks! That's bad and unhealthy!" I rolled my eyes at her taking a sip of my soda.
"You wanted me to get a boyfriend, I don't know what you're complaining about." I stated bored.

  Her eyes widen, "What happened to you? You've been...acting so different!" Callie actually looked hurt, and it wasn't the fake hurt she usually displayed, she genuinely looked hurt. My face fell a little bit, "Nothing, I feel the same." I defended, she frowns looking at me trying to figure me out.

"Well, I hate to break it to you but you don't act the same. You're acting like...." She trails off nervously, "Like who? You? I thought that's what you wanted me to be?" She gasps, "Anne! I am not a slut!" I clenched my jaw furiously, "A slut? Is that what I am now?!" I shouted, she shook her head looking equally as mad.
"No, I didn't say that!" I scoffed, "You implied it though! I don't understand why you're so offended when you act exactly like it! I'm surprised you haven't hooked up with Anthony!" She gasps standing from her seat at the café, "I don't have to sit here and take this from my best friend! Best friends are supposed to care about each other!" I rolled my eyes taking in her petty behavior.

"Best friends are supposed to support each other but that isn't happening so I guess we aren't best friends!" I watched as her eyes watered and she gave me a long hard glare. Then she ran out.

At the moment I didn't regret what I said to Callie, I thought she deserved everything that had came to her -- her life was so perfect, she had the perfect parents, perfect life, and perfect boyfriend. I had none of that, and I thoroughly believed I never would have any of that.
I still don't, did we ever have that Anne?
I never worried about Callie, she was too loved by everyone to miss me. But, I did always feel bad for what I did.

  The worse part about this whole ordeal was that in less than a week my parents would be home and I wasn't ready.
And I knew Aunt Willa could tell to, I was currently sitting in the kitchen browsing through a catalog when Willa spoke up.

  "Anne....when you bent down yesterday, I saw a bruise at the small of your back....what's that about?" I visibly stiffen as Mom's warning rang throughout my head.
"I...I guess I hit something walking into the kitchen the other morning." I excused, she sighs shaking her head.
"You know...if anything is ever going on...you can tell me," I nod giving her a smile, "Yes I know, but I promise nothing is going on."
That was vaguely true at the moment, nothing was going on, and it's not like I wasn't used to the beatings.

It seemed like they were apart of my everyday life and it's been absent for almost a month.
I knew when it started up again it'd hurt worse since I was accustomed to this lavish life.

***

   It's what people didn't see what made them blind, that notion is possibly the most stupidest thing I've ever uttered but here's the truth.
When you're reading this in some odd years and you're totally speechless over what went on, I hope that you have a better life. But then you found this book, so, here's the lesson you'll relearn.

  They close their eyes so they cannot see what is placed in front of them in hopes whatever is there will disappear.
When they open they see me; I have a smile, hidden bruises, and a laugh you'd never guess was taken away brutally. They saw her because that's what I wanted them to see -- but what about what they wanna see?
Now, I've reevaluated myself, I put myself in their shoes.

I see a girl who looks beyond tired, someone who tries too hard, has been used, manipulated, and mistreated. I must have hid it well if it showed that easily, I didn't like how I was, but I didn't make myself feel this way -- in my situation, you didn't just make yourself feel this way.

They made you feel this way, no matter how much I was tired of it I was always going to be a victim.
And I hurt all over, just like now.

  "You deserve whatever happens to you!" I was shoved against the wall and pain prickles down my body as I stared numbly at my father who was seething with anger, I was never truly ready for the day when the anger shifted to pleasure and satisfaction.