Love, Zoey
- Reads 78
- Votes 7
- Parts 2
MatureOngoing<5 mins
Last published Tue, Oct 16, 2018
Every day it was always "I'm sorry Chris about your friend" or "I'm sorry for what happened".
What did happen? Was the only question I had for myself since she died.
What happened to Zoey Hitchmine?
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What did they mean? I knew who I was, didn't I? I was Rosalia Mallory, a girl left on the doorstep of our town's foster agency to find a new home. From there I went through three homes before at the age of 16 instead of having to live in the group home I secured enough money to, along with the money the foster carers were given for me, to buy an apartment building. Alongside a job bartending and waitressing I had enough money to attend college and am currently studying Religion and Mythology, Creative writing and Art. Just a normal teenage girl with a normal life. But at the same time, I'm not. Who am I? Seems like the most cliché question a teenager can ask right? Except when your missing months, if not years, of your life suddenly that seemingly simple question takes on a whole new meaning. After all, if you don't know your whole past how can you answer that for yourself?
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