I remember myself being an anxious little kid. Pail skin, scared of bugs, all covered in bruises and scars, being sick way too often.. Even my sister didn't want to play with me nor live with me in the same house but that was mutual. She always said that I was embarrassing her. I always knew my mom hated me. I wasn't the right kid for her... I was nothing like my sister whom she loved endlessly. I understood that pretty clear when she hitted me for the first time. It hurt but time though me that this wasn't the biggest pain I'll ever have in my life. I was more of a ghost for my whole family rather than the youngest child. This was the very beginning I guess... So.. It was faith, right?
YOU ARE READING
What Is Left
Teen Fiction"I can't remember the last time something good happened to me" "I am sorry for being like this. I am sorry for being a failure"
