Because of my many many trust issues it was hard to make friends. I was guarded.
No friends meant no more Angie's, and no more hurt. I also had a speech impairment, I didn't use my R correctly. Rabbit was Wabbit. Many kids made fun of me, a lot of grown ups though found it cute. It was my elementary years that were the hardest. On top of a unsafe and unstable home life, I had problems at school. One thing I found with interacting with others, which wasn't much was giving them tests. I'd act crazy or weird so if they stayed they were true friends. No one stayed though. No one cared about me, but me. I also struggled with my heart, if a classmate fell I'd fight to go over there and help them. I eventually learned if they don't care about me, I don't care about them. I grew up hard and I learned things that schools don't teach. The teachers tried to understand me, but they couldn't because they didn't know my home life. One of my speech instructors loved me and I loved her. She helped me, and I accidentally talked to her about my home life. That speech instructor made my hell worse. Because of her blabbing, I learned of a bigger threat than the police. Social workers, or as Angie liked to call them Defax. The social worker came over and looked through things, and messed up things, and left. And when she left Angie made me take a week sick day off from school. To any who were out of my hell home I had chicken pox, to the reality of it. I was cleaning Angie's house. She'd hit me and pour things on the floor and say I missed a spot. As I cleaned I wondered if I would ever be able to escape this hell. Was I secretly a bad kid? Why am I being treated like this?
My hell was now at school too.
