Prologue
She wanted to die. That was it.
He hit her, again, and again. What was another back hand to the cheek anyway? Or a slap, or punch. It would be gone soon. After he passed out from the alcohol she retired to her room. That was all Sawyer really remembered before she was taken away. She couldn't say that she came from a broken home, because she wasn't sure where she came from. She did know that she was taken away from her abusive, drunken father at age four. She also knew that her mom like pills, all of them. She didn't really remembered them much. There was one person Sawyer did remember, slightly. It was her brother. She couldn't remember his favourite colour, or what music he liked, or even his name. The only thing she remembered were his striking blue eyes. She could remember looking into them and feeling like she was drowning. She also remembered the way he would take the beatings for her, she was only four. Sometimes she wondered what happened to him. She wondered if he got away, wondered if he fell down a similar path as her father. She liked to think he was better than that. She knew that no matter what she was never going to turn into the mother she didn't remember. She wasn't going to watch her children get beaten to near death, or watch her husband drink until he passed out on the couch, and she definitely wasn't going to use pills to stop feeling. Afterall, Sawyer had something better than that. At age thirteen she discovered a blade. That was that. All she could remember in her life was feeling insignificant, even to this day. She couldn't think of one reason that maybe she could stop and just be happy for a little while. There was an amount of sadness you began to get used to, anything else just felt wrong. Most would easily say that Sawyer had it very easy. If you looked at her home life. She lived with Sophia and Craig. They had a beautiful house and big back yard. The kind of neighbourhood that had block parties and everyone around owned a membership to a golf club.
He worked full-time as a lawyer, and still managed to be a family kind of man, while Sophia owned a cute cafe down town with over-priced soup and salads, though she was hardly ever there. I guess you could say that Sophia fell directly, if not created, the stereotype she'd fallen into. She like cute, pastel colours, and named her daughters things like Maddison and Claira. She had blonde hair that perfectly shaped her face, and fell so delicately onto her shoulders. She went to yoga and palates and she was good at keeping up with her business and being a full time mother. She looked perfect and presentable at any given moment. Her nails were always done perfectly with French tips, or some pastel pink. She was the kind of mom who took her kids to dance class, not that she was like the crazy ones you watch on television with a bitch-coach.
Unless it was known that Sawyer was adopted, many thought that she was her real daughter. They shared the same small frame and pretty face, maybe could have gotten her dark features, and green eyes from Craig. The resemblance was almost scary for people who shared no genetic line, but had so much in common.
She did have things pretty easy. She always got what she wanted or asked for, but it was never much. Part of her felt like maybe she didn't deserve this life. She often questioned how she, unlike so many got to leave her broken place, only to find a better one. For that she was, yes, very thankful, but there was always something reminding her that maybe this wasn't right. Maybe things could've been different, if her mom were to have gotten help, and her dad would have been put in jail. Maybe he had.
Sometimes she wondered what her mom looked like, probably beautiful, with the same petite body, that made it easy for her head to beat the life directly out of her. Never would she allow herself to think about it for too long. She didn't want to imagine the waste of a beautiful person that her mother probably was. She thought she had dark hair like her mom's she also guessed she had her mother's eyes. Big and green, perfectly shaped. but hiding so much pain. The monsters were no longer under her bed; they hid in her head. Inside her mind where they began to eat her alive. She was trapped in her thoughts and left her to destroy nothing but herself. She was good at that. The same way she was good at putting the previous night behind her and putting on a smile. Maybe. She didn't really like to smile, much. She did get to leave the broken place. The physical one. That may have been something to smile about. But there was still something so broken, and it was in her mind. It was very dark, so dark that she couldn't see sometimes. It kept her numb, so numb that she denied anyone access. Not even her own parents.
