Prologue
Sarawasn't sure when exactly she became painfully shy. When she was fourand carefree she would stand on the swing and push her body back andforth. Kids would gather around her and tell her to jump, the coldwind rushing against her smiling face. She went as high as shouldcould go and jump hard, flinging herself into the air. The groundrushed at her feet and she'd stumble for a moment, catching herself.She would bow, they'd applaud her. She felt freedom, like all kidsdo, and she loved it.
She had many friends, she knew how to spellall of their names, and took pride in telling her mom and dad storiesfrom her day. She was the perfect little girl, with friends,and interests. She was not the shy little girl that she hadbecome.
It was the day her father had left her, she was sittingon the washer in the laundry room. Kicking her feet, she waited forher mother, Karen, to return and put her back down on the floor. Sheheld a half eaten stick of black licorice, chewing, she listened todistant yelling. It came from the living room. She was used to thefighting, learning to tune it out, and ignoring it.
Sara noticedit was different this time, the screaming had turned into quietanger. Her mother and father were no arguing any longer. Karen wasbegging and pleading for Adam, Sara's dad, to stay.
"Adam,"Karen, cried, "I can't do this by myself. You know I needyou."
His tone was even, uncaring, "I do not care anymoreKaren. I haven't been myself for four years now. I didn't want thislife and you forced me into this. I couldn't afford to pay childsupport, you knew that, and you used it against me.
"That's notfair, Adam," she whispered, "She needs you. How could you do thisto your own child? She loves you more than anything in thisworld."
He shook his head, "I'm not going to deal with thisanymore, Karen. I want to live my life before I die. I don't wantthis responsibility any longer. I am done."
"If you walk outthat door," she said, with tears threatening to fall, "you willnever see Sara again."
Adam opened the door, "So be it. Bye,Karen." He slammed the door behind him. Never returning, neverseeing Sara or Karen again.
Sara had heard every horrific word,tears welled in her eyes, and suddenly they burst through aninvisible barrier. They fell down her cheeks, unrelenting. Herlicorice and her heart fell with those tears. She had been brokenthat day and no one had been able to put those pieces back together.It did not matter that she did not recall any part of this day or herfather. She had forgotten every part of her happy life with a happyfamily.
Shortly after her father left Sara and Karen, Sarahad gotten quiet. She stopped playing with her friends. Sheeventually lost those friends to other kids that could swing standingup, jumping into the air. The children thought she was weird. She saton a bench at the edge of the school's park, watching her old friendsplay. Some days she would cry during recess.
The children startedto make fun of her, they called her names, and after word got outthat her father left her, things got worse. They'd tell her that evenher father didn't love her.
She got older and things stayed thesame. They would push her into lockers and laugh at her clothing, itwasn't cool enough. They didn't stop when she cried. She would fakecolds and beg her mom to let her stay home from school. She could notbear to be there any longer. She couldn't stand her teachers, thatcalled on her to answer questions she didn't know the answers to,when she hadn't raised her hand to begin with. The teachers andstudents made her feel stupid and out of place.
Her mother madeher attend school when she faked illnesses, telling her if she missedtoo many days of school, they would take her away. She couldn't loseher husband and her daughter too. It broke Sara's heart to know thatno one would take her away from the bullies and pain she dealt withevery day. It wasn't her mother's fault, however, Sara had kept everyinsult and emotion from her mom. She didn't want to be any more of aburden than she already was. If her father did not want to deal withher, maybe her mother would leave too.
She didn't want to bealone and spent most of her time in front of the television, makingfriends with characters in the shows and movies she watched. Theywere her only solace in her day. She rush home, pushing past theother kids in the long hallway and jump into her mom's car. She wouldhug Karen with all of her strength and smile, happy to be safe awayfrom her tormentors.
When she was home, she was free, and safe.She would turn on the television and relax, sighing in relief frominsurmountable stress. Often times, too exhausted to accomplish anybit of homework. Her grades slipped drastically and she became so farbehind, she couldn't focus on any of the words the teachers spoke.This made it ten times worse on her when she was called on to answera question, she had no clue, and was not caught up with the otherkids.
The twelve year old children stared at her as shestammered, wracking her brain for an answer, and finally giving up,"I don't know, I'm sorry," she would say.
She was alwaysapologizing, it became a habit, she always felt in the way. Hermother would get frustrated with her constant sorriness, she wouldscold her, she had nothing to be sorry about, she had done nothingwrong.
"Just stop saying it, Sara," Karen had said.
Sarashrugged, "I can't help it. If I'm sorry, then, I'm sorry."
"Iknow that," her mother sighed, "but do you have to be sorry allthe time?"
She just smiled sadly at her mother, "I'm alwaysmessing things up."
"I want to smack you," Karen laughed,shaking her head.
"Sorry, mom," Sara shrugging.
