You don’t know me like you think you do. Nobody does. Sometimes, I don’t even understand myself.

You see a little girl in a long dress with a bow in her hair. You think she’s harmless and won’t do anything to hurt anyone. You see her at her desk alone doing her work without saying a single word. You think she’s sweet and caring. We’ll you’re wrong! She’s been through too much. Don’t talk to her, don’t mess with her, don’t even look at her for longer than two seconds because then she’ll burst. She gets mad at the simplest things and you better think twice if you think she’s going to just sit there and not do anything.

It all started five years ago. My father was drunk behind the steering wheel, driving me and my pregnant mother. We were on our way to the hospital but I never thought it would be for that reason. I remember my mom screaming in terror for my dad to slow down. Her loud screams only made the situation worse and caused my father to drive faster. My father had heard enough of my mom’s cries. He stopped the car and pulled her out of the car by her hair and pushed her to the ground. The sound of his large fist smashing against her face still haunts me. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to help my mom? I began to cry. I hate the feeling of hearing my mom crying while she’s getting beaten. My heart was shattered as I heard 3 gun shots. My father killed my mother.

After my mother’s death, it was up to my abusive father to take care of me and my younger sister, Lilly. My 5 year old sister was terrified by my father. She was already broken down by the loss of my mom and my dad was only there to make things worse. He soon decided that leaving us abandoned was the best decision since my mom died. He committed suicide while Lilly and I where at school. We found him on the kitchen floor with the gun my mother was murder with. The puddle of blood is all I can remember since then. Now it’s my responsibility to take care of Lilly. How am I supposed to do this if I’m just 10 years old?

It’s been 5 years since the tragedy of my parent’s death. I never imagined having to struggle life without them. That young girl with the bright smile is gone. She’s a broken angel.