the last of her kind

Chapter 1

My life is normal. My life is as normal as can be for a seventeen-year-old orphan. I don't know much about my past, before and after the age of six, but I know some things, the key things. I know I wasn't wanted and that's why I was given away. I bet you thought I was a child whose mother and father died, and left stranded in an orphanage? But no. Even I wish that. That way I wouldn't be as messed up as I am.

I'll tell you what I remember about my past and then I'll tell you my life status now. As a six-year-old I was told I was quiet, skinny but I don't remember who told me that. I was so skinny and malnourished, which also had an impact on my height, I looked like a four-year-old. That hurt my pride, but I willingly took the shot. I don't remember who told me.

The lady who received me told me I was a small child who was holding a two-year-old hand. Oops I'm getting off track. This has more to do with me in the orphanage than my past home.

So, where was I? Ah, yes. I was talking about my bony self. I didn't get much to eat, I remember that, but I thought that was normal. I would eat whatever mom would get me and I wouldn't whine for more, out of fear. Why was I scared? Oh, because of my father. He was a terrifying man. He would sit by the television and scream orders at my mom. If she didn't get them right, then he would hurt her. I also thought that was pretty normal.

He would hurt her, and I wouldn't stop him. Why, you ask? Wouldn't he listen to his precious daughter? Yeah, no... If I tried to stop him then the fury was turned to me. You may think I was malicious and selfish, but I was a child. I didn't understand. Had I understood I would have taken the fall for my mom. He's the reason she died. It's all his fault.

Mommy would do anything for me. Whenever she got her hands on a tiny bit of money, she would spend it on me. She got me new clothes and new shoes while she would wear the same old, tattered rags. She never told me why. I miss her. It's unbelievable how much father hurt her.

He wasn't that big, but he towered over mommy. She was quite short. He was taller than her and faster than her because he went to work. I don't know where his work was, but he had a lot of people coming over, mostly men. I once made the mistake of asking him where he worked and he whirled around to face me with so much fury, spitting out the word with so much venom, "Nowhere!" My heart jumped out of my chest and nearly cried because of that but I knew it would make him even angrier. I wasn't willing to risk it.

The feel of his spit hitting my face was disgusting, but it was just another added layer to all the dirt of me.

He has the dullest of eyes, but a piercing glare. Whenever one of the men from father's work touched mommy and she didn't like it, he would glare at her. She would squirm, politely move their hands and look at father helplessly but all he would do is glare.

They would laugh, leer and swear but he would not stop them. I didn't understand. I thought he loved her, I mean there must have been a reason why he married her.

His fury was his weapon and a dangerous one it was. He wielded like he knew when he felt it and how to unleash it. It rained terror upon us, and he scared me. There was nothing more that I wanted than to get away from it. It haunts me.

Once they were gone, daddy would beat her up. She would blame it on his anger. I knew better now. She would be crying, bleeding screaming for help, and he wouldn't stop. No help came. No matter how hard and loud she screamed, nobody came. Not even me. I didn't know all of this was happening, I couldn't hear from the attic. I didn't know all of this was happening until I went downstairs once, accidently.

Mommy told me not to, I didn't mean to but that day she was screaming loud! I wanted to save my mommy! I needed to save my mommy! I went downstairs, and I shouted at daddy. Mommy was shouting at me. I don't know why. I don't remember what she was saying. I was trying to save her.

I-i-i don't remember what happened next. All I remember is being outside the door of the orphanage, holding the hand of my two-year-old brother. I don't remember how I knew he was my baby brother. Did they tell me, did daddy tell me? I had so many questions, but none were ever answered.

Then they tried to take him away from me, so I hurt them. At least I tried to, I was too weak. One of them said they needed to check up on, but I knew differently. They would hurt him like daddy.

They asked me how old I was. I told them I was six, they said I was twelve. I didn't believe them. I didn't understand. How could I miss six years of my life? They were lying, now I understood. They were lying like daddy. I get it. They work for daddy. But they told me my daddy left me here, that he didn't want me. I let them take him away- my new baby brother. They took care of him, made sure he was okay. They bought him back to me. I decided I liked them, as long as they didn't take my baby brother from me and hurt us like daddy did.