Torn

Torn-Prolouge

I'm always alone. Always here. Usually waiting. Sometimes watching. I'm a dreamer, a believer, but that doesn't stop reality. In reality everything is dark.

My world is a cold, dark chasm. A black hole void of any warm, loving hearts. I am always alone. I know I will always be alone.

Once upon a time things still existed. Then there was no broken glass lining the floor. That was when every morning I saw a smiling face. That was when smiles even existed. There once was a time when my clothes were not threadbare, and the food was hearty. My stomach never wanted food back then. Once upon a time I thought that everyone's life ended with happily ever after. I was lead into believing that every little girl turned out to be a princess. That was the past, now I worry about my future.

Shivering in the cold I look at this little thing. It's a clue, a possibility, a chance to find out the truth. To follow it, do trust this little thing, would mean turning my whole world upside-down. A different life, a different love, different people, different society, and different expectations. I hated expectations. Expecting things can hurt a person, crush them deep down, and make them bend over backwards to meet those expectations. Why do these decisions always come when everything seems like it is going to be okay? When it seems as if everything will be fine, as if your life doesn't depend on that one single moment, but unfortunately that is when decisions matter. That one moment when you decide to take a turn the other way at that fork in the road. Yet, if I don't follow it I know I will regret it, I know that I will curse the day I made this decision.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Every day I struggle to hide the fact that I live in a dump, with a drunk for my father. I don't tell the others at school that I work very hard to give myself another meal a day, but only having two meals a day is still hard. I'm glad that lunch is free, otherwise I would starve to death. Whenever I have to get new clothes it takes forever to save up enough money because my dad steals it all so he can drink more. If there was a chance to get out of this ditch right now I would take it in a heartbeat. My mother named me Rosa after the one small, hardy rose bush that grew out of the cracked cement driveway in our old house. I was her beautiful Rosie. The thing that brightened up her day. Personally, I think she knew she was going to just leave me one day, and disappear into nowhere. She named me Rosa because she knew I would be a survivor, try to survive for her. I do try to survive, but lately it's been hard. Each rose eventually withers up and dies. I've had too much going on. I'm going to collapse under this pressure. I am going to be the one who withers up and dies.