I didn’t know how to feel about the new place. Or anybody in it. I really didn’t care. It was stupid. This was stupid. Why did she have to move anyway? Oh wait, that’s right, because of me. Because I was a mistake causing trouble in school. A trouble maker. A misfit. That’s all I’ll ever be to her. A mistake.
I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Taylor Pesqueira. I’m 16 years old. When I was eight, I was adopted by a family without flaws. At least that was what I thought. The day I turned ten, my adopted father took me and his daughter out to Rollerblade because it was my birthday. A drunk driver turned onto the highway, stepped on the gas, and crashed into us. I don't remember much after that, but I remember glass everywhere. There were sirens and flashing lights, and I was picked up and taken to the hospital. When I woke up, I was in a white hospital room, And there was my adopted mom, sitting on the chair next to me, holding a picture frame of her, her daughter, and her husband. When she noticed me awake, she looked at me with a look of hate, and she said, “It’s you're fault they're gone,” and then she left.
At that time I was so confused. What did she mean “They're gone?” What happened?
Later, the doctor came in too check on me. I had decided to ask what happened. He looked at me with a look of sadness, and said one sentence that changed my life forever.
“You were the only survivor.”
Ever since then my Adopted mom blamed me. If it wasn’t for me, they would be alive. Why did they die and not me? Every day she tells me how I should have been the one who was crushed under the drunk driver’s truck and not them. How I will never be her daughter. Ever. But I don’t care. It’s not like I’ll ever find a home, or someone to love me.
I woke up that morning to her screaming and throwing things at me while storming into my room.
“Wake up Brat! Where’s s’my food? You aren't even up yet! Get your butt outta bed befores I beat it!”
This was my everyday routine. Waking up to my- to her, shouting and throwing things. Today wasn’t bad though, she wasn’t throwing beer bottles or picture frames. Today it was the dirty pile of clothes sitting right next to her as she leaned against the door frame to my room.
She must be drunk. Again. I thought about how many times she’s gotten drunk this week. Nope. Better to not think about it.
I went to our poor excuse for a kitchen and tried to open the fridge, but the door was blocked with a bunch of alcohol junk, and other disgusting things she decided to get out.
Great, we haven’t been here barely a week, and the appartement is already turning into a trash dump. I kicked the trash out of the way and grabbed the leftover egg casserole I made last night and put it on the table in front of Her.
“There’s your breakfast. Try not to throw it up on the carpet while I’m gone.” I said bluntly, walking out and grabbing my shoes, coat and backpack. Our little apartment was small, and could’ve been cozy if it weren’t for all the bottles and trash littered on the floor. We had a beaten up couch up against the wall, and a TV sitting a couple feet away from it. there was a coffee table in the middle of the room with half drank bottles all over it.
And she wonders why we have no money? Hmmm, so do I.
“I’m going to school, do you think you can try to clean up your mess?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“My mess? You little brat! You clean it up, I’ve got better things s’to do than deal with this stupid mess and you're worthless s’arse! You knows what, why don'ts you-”
I slammed the door, not caring what she had to say to me. It happened everyday, so why should I listen to the same thing everyday?
Because you're worthless. Said the voice in the back of my mind. No. No, I’m not worthless. I thought back to it. Oh you're right. It cooed. You're not completely worthless. You have to make sure your mother stays sober so that she doesn’t hurt you. Oh! Wait. You fail at that too.
“Shutup!” I shouted out loud, gritting my teeth. It’s not like that. Sigh. sometimes I wish I could die. Or even better, be apart of those worlds and where you never have to deal with abusive mothers and popular bullies.
Great. I thought. And I thought She was crazy.
I just wanted it all to go away. You know what. Living in a world like that would be amazing, where I would have a home, someone to love me, a place to call my own. THat would be-
I immediately stopped thinking about that. What in the world is wrong with you!? I Internally chastised myself. It’s bad enough to think you can have a life that doesn’t exist, but having it be a life where everything is perfect? Ughhhh. Another problem to go on my internal list of ‘Things I hate about myself’. Which is pretty much everything.
I stopped in front of the doors to my new school, and hesitated. I could already see people giving me looks as they climbed up the steps.
“Nope,” I mumbled to myself, and turned around and started heading down to the run down park a few blocks away. I decided to walk in the woods behind the park. Those trees seemed to be my only friends. Always listening, always there for me. Even if they are just trees.
I collapsed next to a tall pine, and closed my eyes. Why? Why does this happen to me? I’ve got no friends, no family except for a poor excuse for a mother. I’ve never had a boyfriend, so I don’t know what it’s like to feel loved. In any way shape or form. I’m unwanted, uncared for, unloved, bruised, and hurt. The list piles up and up until I can't take it anymore. I find a way to let it out though. It’s not pretty and it hurts, but it takes my mind off this emotional pain to the real, physical pain.
I took out my pocket knife and turned it over in my hand. It was given to me by my adopted father for self defense.
“Promise me you’ll never use this for any type of harm to yourself or anyone else unless it’s self defense, ok?”
“I will, thank you...dad.”
“You're welcome, dear”
I Hope you guys liked my story! More is yet to come with some BIG plot twists!(If I can get enough likes...:)) So if you liked then..well..like it:)