BACKGROUND HISTORY
↧ DIARY ENTRY ONE: December 6th 7th, 2007
Today my mother died, I'm not really sure why someone would want to do this to us.. I don't know why I didn't do anything, all I saw was blood and more blood, I'm so scared. Beatrix promised everything would be fine, but she didn't see what I saw. My sisters got away before me and it isn't fair, why are they the ones that my family are so concerned about. I just wanted them to notice me for once, I never wanted my mommy to die. I just want her to come back, and my sisters don't seem worried at all. Morena has always been a spoiled brat, my mother always liked her best. She never cared about Frances and I, all she cared about was her stupid baby. I hate being in this stupid hospital, I hate all these police officers asking me questions, I don't remember what happened. I don't want to remember what happened ever again.
DIARY ENTRY TWO: October 2nd, 2009
Today was my birthday, I live in Germany now. I left all my family because I just couldn't take it anymore, I couldn't be around them anymore. They are nothing but chaos, always looking for problems that we don't need. I always feel like someone is watching my every move.. but I know that isn't just a feeling. Someone is. My dad kept beating on me and my sisters, but they refused to leave like they think they deserve what he does. I miss them but I know I'm better off without them, I keep thinking I need to go back but I can't. I don't want to. Before I left my sisters were in the hospital again anyways, so they won't even notice I'm not there when they come back, they only worry about themselves. My Aunt Mary keeps telling me that everything is going to be better now, I feel like I finally have a real mother. Everyday she tucks me into bed and tells me she loves me, I feel like I'm finally at home. I love her, I never want to leave. She makes me better.
DIARY ENTRY THREE: January 4th, 2010
I can't sleep at night anymore, every time I close my eyes I can hear her. The doctors told me I wouldn't remember and they promised, I still hear her. I heard her screams when she hit the floor, and when the bullets went through her back and into her heart. She won't stop screaming. People at school keep making fun of me because I don't sleep anymore, I don't want to sleep. I just want her to go away, I never want to see my mom again. She's dead, this isn't fair? She's been dead for so long.. Mary keeps telling me that it's because I faced a trauma I'll never forget, and the doctors are saying I'm suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I hate feeling broken, I hate feeling like them.
ENTRY FOUR: November 1st, 2011
I got suspended from school. I can't believe I could hurt someone the way they said I did, I don't even remember. Why don't I remember? I woke up in the hospital sedated today, they keep asking me questions about how I'm feeling. The doctor said I might have done it because of all the clicking.. I just remember click.. click.. click.. When I read the file later it said that I grabbed the stapler, and stapled Caleb's hand to his chest... How could I do that? He was my best friend. My Aunt wants me to go back to New York, I don't want to go. I don't want to ever go back to that house, I can't be with my sisters anymore. I can't look at them after remembering all the images, I can't even think about seeing my father ever again because the mere thought of him.. makes me hate him more for not doing anything.
ENTRY FIVE: October 2nd, 2013
Another year where my birthday was celebrated. By whom? No one to be exact, not even myself. It's the days where I would just walk down the street to gain the fresh sent of air and calm my nerves. Having depression isn't so easy. Even when having a cut makes me woozy cause when blood comes, I can only take image of the blood of my mothers that seeped through the crease of the closet door. I hid there with my legs to my chest, but when that blood touched me, everything felt more like a vast emptiness of disappointment, lack of trust, and most of all depression. Each whooping from my father isn't even as hurtful as the sight image of my mother. Each slash through my skin isn't even as hurtful as my sisters not trying to come to get me from that secluded closet. It's hard. Even hard enough to realize even though I like being alone... I don't like feeling alone.
ENTRY SIX: JANUARY 3RD, 2015
I'm still 17, and through these 17 years, I've finally recovered from the feeling of being kicked out of my Aunt's home. Maybe the tension I gave off fled the house and made her uncomfortable, even from the guest she would bring over. I've returned home, sisters. It's been hell and back. Soon enough I may designate myself towards the pills in my drawer and end it all. But I'm stronger than that. Maybe those pills don't need to be used on me. Maybe the ones who deserve it, and those are the ones who ever provoked me ever. Just do as always, laugh, smile, but inside feel the deep feeling of knives stabbing into your heart.
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